Jerry Davich: Maybe it was the sangria talking but it’s still true

• Reprints

Leslie Adkins/Post-Tribune Rex Richards, (middle) president of the Chamber of Commerce, in Valparaiso, stands with Mark Maassel, (left) and Carlos Rivero, Jan. 10, 2009 at the Strongbow Inn. Maassel and Rivero were honored at the dinner, Maassel received the award for distinguished community leader and Rivero got the legacy of service award. PTMET

Updated: February 25, 2012 8:04AM

I returned confidently to the podium, adjusted the microphone and stared at dozens of faces I didn’t recognize.

“I just want to say one more thing,” I told guests at Restaurante don Quijote in downtown Valparaiso on Thursday night. “I, uh, I, uh ...”

Oh no, I thought! I forgot what I was going to say. Not the best time for a memory lapse among a who’s who of movers and shakers, especially because I already felt like a can of new Coke in a wine cellar of vintage bottles.

So, instead, I nervously backpedaled and once again thanked the restaurant’s owner and honoree of the evening, Carlos Rivero, who was awarded the city’s annual Citizen Square Award.

It couldn’t have gone to a more deserving Valparaiso business owner and community philanthropist who has helped transform the city’s downtown section into a model for other towns and cities.

In fact, I made a related off-the-cuff remark to the guests, comparing their wonderful downtown with my city’s missing-in-action downtown. The phrase “downtown Portage” is considered an oxymoron to most city residents, myself included, so I said so before leaving the podium for my seat.

I had no idea my silly joke would offend anyone, let alone a Valparaiso woman who would soon take me to task for saying it. I’ll get to her in a minute.

A few minutes earlier, during my first turn at the microphone, I brought along a few notes about Rivero who, by the way, only goes by the name of “Carlos.” Like, say, Pele.

I’ve met Carlos only twice before, I told guests, and both times I offended him. The first time, at a party he catered when I refused his wonderful food and tasty sangria.

I was on assignment for a column so I typically don’t eat, and I also typically don’t drink alcohol at any time. It just isn’t my thing.

Carlos, however, looked slightly miffed when I took a pass on both his offerings.

Fast forward to earlier this month when I visited his restaurant for a meeting about the upcoming awards dinner. Carlos again offered free food and sangria to me and other committee members. I again politely declined, this time respectfully explaining that I already dined at another restaurant for a family function.

Carlos looked at my empty plate, my empty glass and the empty look on my face. He shrugged with a forced yet sweet smile, but he was clearly offended.

This is exactly what I told guests on Thursday night, however, noting that I would make up for those impolite gaffes by not only dining on his food but also drinking his popular sangria. And I did, even though I’ve never drunk sangria before.

“So, Carlos, I hope you’re happy by turning a nondrinker into a potential alcoholic,” I joked with him from the podium. “I’m going to stay here all night drinking your sangria.”

It was only after I returned to my seat that I remembered something else I was supposed to say, but forgot. Maybe it was the sangria, maybe it was my typical forgetfulness. I don’t know.

What I forgot to tell guests was Carlos’ funny habit of ducking out of his own parties, get-togethers, and community events before they end.

“Carlos only knows one speed and that is all-out, so more often than not he is the first one to run out of steam,” a friend of his told me. “He would never ask guests to leave so he just disappears from his own party and goes to bed.”

Through the years, he has perfected his seemingly slick escapes by saying he is simply getting his camera to take a few photos. But he never returns and guests who don’t know him well enough always wonder what happened to him.

This was the humorous little anecdote I was supposed to tell guests, while reminding them to not let him get away with it again on Thursday night. But I forgot to say it.

And this is why I returned to the podium, but I forgot yet again. That’s when I made that backhanded remark about Portage’s downtown, or lack thereof, and that’s when a woman named Kay soon walked over to my table to question my motives.

Through polite words but angry eyes, Kay wondered why I would say such a critical observation. Several people have tried hard to make the Portage downtown a success, she insisted.

“It was just a joke,” I replied, surprised at her disdain. “It wasn’t scripted and maybe it was the sangria talking. Plus, as a Portage resident for 30-plus years, I know it’s true.”

Or I said something to that effect because, truth to told, I was still buzzing from the first alcohol I had in more than a year. (Carlos gets full credit or blame here.)

It didn’t matter. Kay didn’t like the quip and she just HAD to tell me. Of course, as a columnist, that’s when I knew I just HAD to write about that evening.

In retrospect, I still stand by my slurred declaration. I wish Portage’s downtown area had a fraction of the amenities that Valparaiso offers its residents — and outsiders like me.

Afterward, Carlos came over to thank me, and I pick-pocketed a cue from his aforementioned bag of party tricks.

While the night was still young, and guests were yakking it up, I quietly slipped out the front door. My girlfriend quietly followed. We moved like smoke. We moved like Carlos.

When a guest asked me where I was going, I replied with a sly smile, “to get my camera.”

Listen to more about this issue on Jerry’s “Out to Lunch” radio show today at noon on WVLP 98.3-FM
or www.wvlp.org.