The second date is with a guy I met on a flight to Vegas a few weeks ago. It's taken this long for our schedules to align and he's fine with being second on my dance card. But as is often the case when I have more than one social engagement, I may have to fore go both. This time it's my head. I know it's always messed up but right now I'm having one of those weird headaches that typically precede a sinus infection. Just when I scoffed at allergy season it sneaks up on me all stealth like, throwing off my equilibrium and social calendar.
At least lunch was good. Larry, Steve-O and I went to the burger joint inside Le Parker Meridien. Talk about a paradox. The swank lobby is home to Norma's, a Bergdorf blond favorite for lunch. But tucked behind a heavy floor-to ceiling curtain is a hole in the wall grease pit that serves up sumptuous burgers with a side of attitude. A sign above the counter says: "We don't spit on your food, don't write on our walls." They also make it clear that if you don't have your order ready to spout off, it's back to the long line that snakes into the hotel lobby, betraying the burger bar's otherwise clandestine location. Whether it's Sunday brunch or Tuesday lunch, the line is always long and seating in the handful of booths and stools scarce. I scoped out a booth, snagged it and then texted my order to Larry."Cheeseburger and strawberry shake, plz." He and Steve O gave me the thumbs up. Several minutes later, Larry returned with a fountain drink for himself and something almost as out of place on the menu as the burger joint was in this hotel: a bottle of Evian. "They didn't have strawberry milkshakes," he said in response to my expression. "So you got me Evian?" I said. "Yeah, I figured, it's healthier than a coke," he shrugged. "You thought I wanted healthy when I ordered a milkshake? From milkshake to water?" Larry has less patience for my petulance than Alec Baldwin for his daughter. "I brought you fries to make up for it, now shut up and eat them."
OK, inappropriate comments abound at my workplace. As a female coworker rushed out to run an errand, another asked where she was going. "She's getting a bikini wax," announced Steve O. Appalled I glanced up from my laptop, she laughed and nodded affirmatively as she walked out. Then, two guys rushed to the west window that overlooks Broadway and the Letterman studios. "Three bimbos 12 o'clock!" After picking one each they said, "the one in the yellow is yours," to me. Incorrigible, these people. That's why I fit right in.
