I hope all you Okies can pick up the Oklahoma Gazette this week; it contains what I think might be the best piece I’ve ever written for the publication – a farewell ode to Galileo Bar & Grill in the Paseo.

I started going to Galileo after my inglorious return to Oklahoma City in 2002, and have loved everything about it ever since. I love the artwork, the beer, the staff, the food, and especially the ambience. Because the Gazette is a strictly third-person publication, I wasn’t able to share my own personal memories of Galileo. So, here are some vignettes.

In the winter of 2002 I took my little book of scribblings to the open mic poetry reading. I listened to everyone else read, frantically searching through my book for something decent; everything suddenly seemed like crap and I grew a case of cold feet. Also, I ran into a boy I liked there and was so worried about impressing him that I worried my writing would scare him away. That was one of the stupidest things EVER, but there you have it.

In the summer of 2003 I sat on the back patio at Galileo with a group of well-connected Oklahoma progressives who had responded to a posting on Meetup.com; we were there because we supported Howard Dean and were soul-sick about the Bush administration. David Walters and Miles Tolbert spoke eloquently, and we all left with a sense of purpose and determination. Later, we all had our hearts broken when John Kerry earned the nomination, and even worse when Bush was re-elected.

In 2004 my friend Dylan came to see me, and we took him to see K.C. Clifford play a show at Galileo. The show was excellent, the crowd was raucous and into it, but a knot of hippie girls insisted on standing directly in front of our table, effectively blocking our entire view of the stage. When we politely asked them to move, they turned and sneered at us in a way that suggested we might be imminently devoured. Peace and love indeed. Whatever, we still had a fantastic time.

In 2005, at another K.C. Clifford show, I asked my friend Laurie what she thought of the possibility of me getting together with this guy Brian I’d been hanging out with a lot. She loved him to death and gave me a look like “OH MY GOD ARE YOU FREAKING SERIOUS GET OVER YOURSELF AND GO OUT WITH HIM.” Some months later, in that same restaurant, at a table a few feet away, I asked him to marry me. I have an audio recording of that entire evening; if my house ever catches fire I’m grabbing Sam and those CDs before I run out of the house.

We had my 25th birthday party at Galileo. My family got me a wonderul Indian quilt from Craig’s Emporium and I drank sloe gin fizz all night. It was another K.C. Clifford show, and she sang me “Happy Birthday” from the stage and dedicated “The Wish Song” to me.

When the first Equality Ride came through Oklahoma City, they parked their big gay bus down in the Paseo and shared their stories with the assembled crowd, stories of finding Jesus in the midst of the crazy struggle with capital-letter topics like Sexuality, Alcoholism, Drugs and God. I looked out into the crowd, most of whom had just come down for dinner, and saw some tears, and even more expressions of dawning understanding and compassion. I spent the rest of that week smiling my head off.

IN 2006 my friends Jon and Tish were racing through OKC to make it to our friend Faith’s wedding in St. Louis. They called asking where they might find some good fast food. I told them to forget the fast food, and directed them to exit the interstate at NW 23rd, and to meet me in the Byron’s parking lot. I called over to Galileo, got a couple wraps and some hummus to go, and delivered it unto them. They called 20 minutes later to thank me profusely.

At yet another K.C. show, the Bluehouse were invited to the stage mid-set to serenade the crowd with their kickass rendition of “Heard It Through the Grapevine.” Another time, a dude had a seizure just a few minutes before showtime, right in the front door of the restaurant. Finally, at yet another show, K.C. was struck with a case of the giggles mid-song when a woman in full belly dancing regalia strolled, nonchalantly, just a few feet past her as she sang. Her giggles proved infectious and soon the entire restaurant was laughing.

Also in 2006, on my last day as an intern at the Gazette, a job and an opportunity that changed my life forever, the editor and one of the news reporters took me out to lunch at Galileo and told me I had a promising future. JOKE’S ON THEM! No, seriously, it was a wonderful day.

This past summer, after a Dr. Pants show at CD Warehouse, pretty much the entire show crowd met afterward at Galileo, where we pulled several tables together outside and gabbed until the place closed. It was the last time I ever went there; I wish I’d have known – I’d have ordered a sloe gin fizz and a K.C. Calzone (named, of course, after Mrs. Clifford).

That place has formed such a nexus of activity and history in my Oklahoma City life since 2002. There’s a new place opening in the space on December 1; it’s going to be called Picaso’s on the Paseo. I don’t know if it’ll be good or not, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to bear going in there, but I say let’s all go and raise a glass to what was, and what will be. In the meantime, though I will probably be murdered for doing so, I’m posting this photo, which my friend Todd sent to me as I was researching this story. It’s a photo from one among countless dinners at Galileo wherein we laughed, drank, philosophized and generally just enjoyed one another’s company. It’s possible this photo is from winter 2002, but I’m not sure.