Proposal at the Plough and Stars On a Friday evening in early September, love and romance flowed as freely as the beer and whiskey at a pub in San Francisco, California, known as the Plough and Stars. This venerable institution on Clement Street is a place where I play music with my band on occasion. It's a great pub, with the prerequisite dartboards, pool tables, and friendly barkeeps. There's also a small stage, dance floor, and decent sound system for live music, which happens many nights of the week. As pleasant a spot as the Plough and Stars may be, it certainly does not jump to the top of my list of places I would think of as the perfect spot for a marriage proposal. But a marriage proposal at the Plough and Stars is exactly what one man had in mind for his girlfriend. A few weeks before one of our gigs at the Plough, I received an email from a guy named Robert who lives in Southern California. He explained that he was looking for a unique way to propose to his girlfriend, Janice. Robert had first envisioned himself learning a song on guitar called "Love You 'Till The End", by the Pogues, and singing it to his beloved somewhere in San Francisco-- at the conclusion of which he would spring the big question. But that hadn't worked out very well, due to the fact Robert couldn't really play guitar. So, thought the determined lover, whom else might he get to sing this song? With a little web search, I presume, on venues featuring Celtic music in San Francisco, Robert came up with the Plough and Stars—I'm not totally clear on this detail--but at any rate, he found the name of the band that would be playing there on THE night. Which was my band, Storm Session. Contacting me through our website, he wrote asking if I knew the song, and if I did, might I consider singing it at the Plough and Stars that night, after which he would propose to his girlfriend. Well, 'tis said it takes all kinds to make a world, and I for one believe it. I mean, I love the Plough and Stars, but it is a bar, and can be noisy, because people go there to socialize or drink, and very likely both--not exactly where I would fancy a marriage proposal taking place. I've also spent a great deal of my life saying yes to things I later wondered why in the world I had agreed to that, so I've been working on saying "no" more. As I didn't really know this song anyway, and was fairly well swamped with trying to learn my own new songs, I wrote to Robert that although I would love to accommodate his request, I didn't really have the time to learn the song. So unfortunately, he couldn't count on me to be his Irish Cyrano on that night. Robert wrote back thanking me for even bothering to respond to his email in the first place. He went on to share his alternate plan, which was to do something like spell out "Will you marry me" in rose petals on the bed of the hotel room, and have the song playing on his ipod. How did I think that would work, he asked.  That did it. I don't know if he calculated that telling me plan two would set the hook, but I was sincerely touched by his sense of romance. I grabbed my guitar and looked up "Love You 'Til The End" on the web. Of course, there it was on YouTube. After listening for a bit, I started playing and singing along. I decided I liked the song, and knew I could do a good job of it, even for a wedding proposal in a bar. I wrote Robert back and let him know that I had changed my mind, and that if he did indeed wish to show up that night with his girlfriend at the Plough and Stars, the band and I would be prepared to do the song. Of course, I hoped it would turn out to be a very wild and sweet moment at the pub. With this in mind, I discussed Robert's idea with a number of good friends I consider to be experts of sorts in romance as well as pubs. I then came up with a simple plan on how Robert might best accomplish his task. First, I suggested, the band would begin the evening by playing three or four songs. After which Robert would approach the stage and "request" the song. At which point I would make a show about "hmmm, I think we can remember how to do that one, blah, blah, blah, etc, etc…" We begin the song. Robert would then use the opportunity of the instrumental break after the second verse to make his proposal. If the audience were very noisy, he could come up to the stage, and I would hand him the microphone. I also added that I thought it wise that he be fairly confident of what Janice's response would be. Otherwise it was destined to be one big really bad awkward moment for everyone there. And lastly I suggested that he and Janice come early, and take advantage of what is usually the quieter part of the evening. He replied that he was planning on coming at 8. I told him we didn't start until 9. He wrote back that he figured he was going to need a hearty dose of "liquid courage" in order to do the deed. I'll see you early, then, I wrote back. And have courage, man! And so it all came to pass, taking only 23 emails, eight days of anticipation, two minutes of song, and less than ten seconds of proposal and acceptance time. Although for a few sketchy minutes, I feared it wasn't going to happen at all. As we were setting up that Friday night, I let on to our friends who were there, as well as the trusty bartenders, what was up, and thereby adding greatly to the sense of anticipation I already felt by doing so. Everyone had a great time just trying to figure out who Robert was, as at that point I had no idea if he was young or old or what, and so we were all on the sly glancing around at new arrivals, whispering to each other "Do you think that's him?" But the minutes went by, and I was beginning to think maybe Robert had decided to do something else, or find his liquid courage at another watering hole. Finally, about ten minutes before 9, I was walking towards the bar when I heard an urgent voice behind me whispering "Maggie, its Robert behind you. Don't turn around!" So, I just walked on, but at the earliest opportunity, turned and very CASUALLY made him and Janice out across the room. They chose a table, and a minute later Janice went to the ladies' room. Robert leapt up and came over to me, and we had a short conspiratorial hug. He looked really, really, really nervous--and young, and cute, in a dark handsome kind of way. Get a beer, I said. Janice then appeared out of the ladies' room, and Robert quickly turned to the bartender and ordered. Armed with my own pint of Guiness, I returned to the stage, and we launched into our first set. A few jigs, then a lively ballad, followed by a set of reels, leading into another song. Four numbers down, yet no Robert. I do another song. Robert still doesn't approach. We do a set of slip jigs. Still no Robert. Was something amiss? Had he gotten cold feet? And if so, should I, could I, force the issue? What should I do? What would you do?  In the name of love, I took Robert and Janice's fate in my hands, so to speak, and announced to the crowd that a guy named Robert had requested "Love You 'Till the End", and we would do our best to make our way through the song. I glanced at Robert, and he smiled. At least I think it was a smile. Janice was smiling, at any rate. With great expectations, I began the song, and was thrilled to see Robert almost instantly lead Janice up to the dance floor. As most of the people in the pub by that time seemed to know what was going on, it suddenly got very quiet, except for the band playing the song, and people whispering to each other, all eyes glued on the couple on the dance floor. Robert and Janice danced through the first two verses and accompanying chorus', and right when the instrumental started, Robert, looking very dashing and actually quite confident, went down on one knee, and held up a ring to the lovely looking and evidently surprised Janice. With nary a moment of hesitation, she took the ring, Robert stood up and took her in his arms, and they kissed a long and passionate kiss. The room, as might be imagined, erupted in cheers and applause. I then explained to the few that might not have known what was going on exactly what had just transpired, and then there was another round of cheers and toasts. It was great! So, love and romance were found in abundance that night in the little pub known as the Plough and Stars. Who would have thought it? As a sidebar, there were no storms that night, as often accompany our band on our tours—hence, our name Storm Session. Although, as I realized the next day, the east coast was getting hit with a tropical storm that weekend, a veritable hurricane, in, of all places, Boston, Massachusetts, where there is ANOTHER Plough and Stars--which actually comes up first on a Google search for "Plough and Stars"-- and that area was whacked hard by the storm. Perchance Mother Nature just clicked on the first thing she saw and sent the storm in error to Boston instead of San Francisco? Or, maybe Mother Nature's got a romantic streak too, and she wanted to make sure there was someone to play for Robert and Janice on their special night. And with any luck, and a lot of perseverance, they might live happily ever after.