Dinner with the parents

Last night Travelling Fille and I met up with her parents and my Pops for a lovely meal at my favorite restaurant in Dublin. We did the same last year, and it is becoming an annual event. It was my treat since her father did a lot of architectural work for me (free) a couple of years ago... and since I am trying to get her parents to adopt me. When I mentioned this to Adopted Dad, he said he was agreeable since he could get money from the government for fostering me. I pointed out that I think they cut off the funds once the child has reached their 40s. I could be wrong though.
Earlier in the evening we had agreed to meet at a swish hotel bar since Pops knows where it is and likes it. I arrived early since I knew his tendency to do the same. While I was waiting I had a nice chat with my uncle, who also likes that place but was elsewhere in Ireland. (Uncle is off to Mayo next week.)
The evening advanced and no sign of Pops. It was still early so I wasn't too worried. Lady Chef and Adopted Dad arrived first. They had missed the raising of the glasses to Arthur at 17:59 (250 anniversary of Guinness last night). I got them drinks and we chatted. Travelling Fille arrived shortly after, having worked late. She was fighting off a cold but rallied for the evening, good woman that she is.
The official time I had given Pops to meet passed. "Where is the boss?" asked Lady Chef. "Good question... I reminded him at 4pm of the arrangements; I don't think he could have got lost--or forgotten."
Given his refusal to use a mobile phone, I had no way of getting hold of him. I wandered down to the bus stop to check for him. No sign. I then made my way through the hotel's other bar, which was packed. Again, no Pops. I returned to the others and chatted some more. 45 minutes past our rendez-vous I started to panic, imagining all kinds of accidents befalling him. (I kept a cool exterior though.)
I queried the staff and asked them to keep an eye out for a little old guy with a shuffling gait. Another trip down to the bus stop... no joy. I was eating cigarettes by this stage.
After again checking the lounge and second bar, I rang one of my neighbors. She hadn't seen him since 2pm. She was flabbergasted and tried to think of suggestions. Luckily while I was talking to her, Pops wandered out of the bar. He had been there for the best part of two hours; I knew he would be in a bar somewhere. He tried to tell me that we always met there (we never have). He brought me back there to meet the lovely couple he had been chatting to. The young woman was good-looking, which was part of the distraction for Pops. I asked him whether he had even looked out for me.
Anyway, we made it to the restaurant only a few minutes late. It was a leisurely, delicious meal and great company.
Afterward, I did my usual trick of putting Pops in a taxi. I escorted my adoptive family to their taxi (and inadvertently called Adopted Dad "Dad"). Then I headed to my local winebar to count my gray hairs from the worry earlier and relax a bit.