Last night, I was sitting at the Palm with Tahmi, having a glass of wine that had been sent over by an odd, reticent man dressed all in denim, who was seated a couple of places away. He was Hispanic, about 50, I think, and when Tahmi and I thanked him for the drinks, he closed his eyes and nodded in acknowledgement, but didn�t speak to us.

I felt someone grasping my left arm, and turned to see a small, white-haired lady who I guessed to be about 60, dressed entirely in pale aqua, with a matching hat. She was looking up at me, and I could see that her eyes matched her outfit, as well.

Urgently, she pointed at the denim man, and said, "Would you PLEASE tell him in Spanish that I couldn't talk to him before because of the balloon extravaganza?" She nodded, patted my arm, and waited for me to translate.

I don't really speak Spanish, and I don't know why she thought I'd be up to the job, but as is my nature, I gave it my best shot. "Um..." It was very loud in the bar, owing to the seventeen-piece band playing "Back in Love Again" on the stage. "Um..." I looked at Tahmi, who had no idea what was happening. She doesn't speak Spanish either, but I asked, "What's the Spanish word for balloons? Globos?"

"I think globos are breasts," she answered.

The blue lady had moved on to another subject, which was, isn't the man in denim handsome? That, I could say in Spanish. (Kind of.) I leaned in and said, "Ella... ella piensa que tu eres muy guapo!" with enthusiasm and pointing toward Blue Lady, lest he get the impression that I was the one admiring him.

He nodded seriously, then let loose a torrent of completely incomprehensible language. I listened for a bit, trying to determine what he was saying, but it was just a river of syllables, not English, and probably not Spanish, either.

Tahmi elbowed me. "What is he saying?" she asked, just as the Blue Lady leaned in and good-naturedly asked, "Can you understand him?"

"No," I answered, and Blue Lady said, "Well, tell him I think he's very handsome, but I'm going home alone!" She told me how everything in her life has been going right for her lately, how everything she touches turns to gold. "I just made fifty thousand dollars!" she said, eyes wide, hands up in the air. �I feel like that... what's that thing Geico has? That thing in their ads..."

"A gecko?" I asked.

"Yes! That gecko. I LOVE that gecko." She paused, thought for a second, then added, "In fact, I'm IN LOVE with it!"

She explained that by "balloon extravaganza," she'd meant the upwelling of excitement and good fortune in her life. The leap from that to why she couldn't talk to Denim Man wasn't exactly one I could make, but I gathered that she was feeling too excited to sit and make conversation. She went off to the dance floor, to find what she called "that fungi attachment, what do you call it?"

"Fungi attachment sounds right," I said, but she kept trying.

"What is the word? Not fungi..."

"Symbiosis?" I offered.

"Symbiosis!" she agreed. "I'm looking for that symbiotic relationship! No, wait. Magnetic! Magnetism." She went off to find it.

At the end of the bar, Denim Man shook his head and expressed his feelings in a long strand of syllables I didn't understand. He was looking for magnetism, too, and his best chance for the evening had just walked away. I didn't know how to tell him in Spanish that you just can't compete with a balloon extravaganza.

Star of the day. . .Robyn Hitchcock