It's a hot time in the old town tonight

I am not always successful at first impressions

     I know, my rapier like wit and general charm are usually overwhelming, but I was reminded today that I sometimes can rank a little low on first impression.
      Years ago, friend John came out to visit.  He brought a girl with him.  This girl was special to him and he wanted her to meet us.
      Big mistake.
      I suggested we go out to dinner, a romantic little country restaurant near Clare.  I think the name was George's Manor....but I could be wrong.
      I drove, which has nothing to do with the story except I forgot there was a no passing zone just west of Creston and I passed, going up hill, scaring the bejeebers out of everyone, but we didn't have an accident.
     The restaurant was nice, from what I remember.  Small, intimate, old fashioned....like dining in someone's living room, which it may have been.  Wood paneling on the walls....very rural.
     We were making conversation.  John was on one side of me, Jackie on the other and Kathy across.
      Each table had a candle in the center and ours was blazing away.  We continued to talk and meals appeared.  There was also a bread basket on the table, near me.  It was a wicker basket with paper towels hanging over the side and it was filled with warm, delicious bread.
      Being the nice person I am, I passed the bread basket over to Kathy.
      That's when the fun began.
      I guess I got a little too close to the candle because the basket suddenly erupted into a ball of flame.
     I dropped it.  The blazing basket was now between Kathy and me.  Flames leaped off the table, dancing over our heads.  (OK, maybe that is an embellishment.)
     So I did what any quick thinking person would do:  I tried to blow out the flames.
      Ashes from the burning paper towels proceeded to cover Kathy's dinner.  I blew again.  The flames  didn't seem to die down and people were starting to stare.  (There may also have been some screaming...I think from me.)
      John very calmly picked up his water glass and poured it on the burning basket.
     The hostess saw this from the other side of the room and came rushing over.
      "Is everything alright?" she asked, staring incredulously at the soggy mess of burned paper towels and ash that now cluttered the table.
      "Yes, yes," I answered.  "But our buns seem to be a bit soggy."
     We never made it back to that restaurant.  The food was good.  It wasn't the embarrassment of setting fire to the bread.
      George's Manor burned down just a few months later.
       I had nothing to do with that, but I suspect a bread basket was involved.
       And despite me, she stayed.  We still go out to eat, but she always keeps an eye out for bread baskets and open flames, just to be safe.