No cover charge in the Ralph Klein Room

An old friend flew in from Calgary for the weekend, and we honoured his visit with the opening of the Ralph Klein Room. No cover charge. No dress code. No problem.

Ralph Klein is a former premier of Alberta, and was fairly popular with many of the fine folks of that province. King Ralph was the type of politician who had a knack for getting the job done, and wasn’t afraid to throw a few drinks into the mix to get there. Maybe a few too many.

The Ralph Klein Room, or RKR, as it quickly became known, is an old post-and-beam drive shed, with a rusted tin roof and gravel floor. There is a sign on the side telling pedlars not to bother stopping, splashes of old motor oil in places, and an atmosphere that had you thinking a cow might wander past the door at any moment. Amenities for the weekend included a few comfortable chairs, a table made out of an old door, a television and DVD player, and an AM/FM radio with a short wave setting to pick up southern gospel, a pow wow, or one of those nuts you know is out there, living underground in an old bus, warning everyone about alien invasions. The chill box was filled with ice and tasty beverages, and there was a five gallon pail nailed to the wall, just in case anyone felt the need to impress everyone with a Kobe Bryant or Kevin Garnett inspired jump shot. The fire pit consisted of an old kitchen sink elevated on blocks, a grill, and more than enough sausages to go around. Ralph Klein himself would have been impressed. Talk and suds flowed freely, interrupted only by the odd flash of lightning, crack of thunder, and hammering of rain on the rusted tin roof. There was a crazy mariachi concert coming through the short wave, but the lightning (or was it the aliens?) kept wreaking havoc on the reception.

Conversation drifted from playoff hockey, to the value of Van Halen bootlegs, to how there must be a reason why so many people are afraid of clowns. Is Dr. Phil really a doctor? Red meat isn’t nearly as bad for you as green meat is. Eagles soar, but rats don’t get sucked into jet engines. If you spill beer on the lawn, will your grass come up half cut? What was the best thing before sliced bread? A shark will only attack you when you’re wet. And so on. Then someone said they had just seen the best beer commercial of all time, about a man who doesn’t always drink beer, but when he does, he prefers Dos Equis. The police often question him, just because they find him interesting. His beard alone has experienced more than a lesser man’s entire body. His blood smells like cologne. He is the most interesting man in the world. And Ralph Klein himself would have been impressed.

The nonsense continued all night, until the blue light of dawn started to poke through the trees. It felt good to be back in such good company, enjoying the warmth of a summer night, and the warmth of friends and family. As friends age, and the complications of their lives and schedules compound and limit them, it gets increasingly difficult to make time for such nonsense. It also gets more important to make that time—so stay thirsty, my friends.