Don’t Be Tardy For The Party

Saturday night, I was destined for a party at the Boat Basin Café. Gigi was coming all the way from Queens to the Upper West for a little white wine and light hors d’oeuvres and then we were to head over.

Several glasses and cookies later, we were totally immersed in E!’s Saturday night showing of Blue Crush. Reeling from the climactic and totally plausible ending, we realized we were terribly late to our party. We hopped in a cab and got there just as the host and hostess were departing (shame spiral) and realized that the two of us were alone with the one remaining attendant, Vlad.

Vlad stood at exact eye-level with Gigi (a cool 5’, 0”). He is a doctor. He is from Russia. (Whenever I meet someone from Russia, I always mention that my roommate is also from Russia. I don’t know if this is xenophobic or racist, but it unfailingly elicits zero interest from the other party.) I would not call Vlad a master of conversation or a man who frequently keeps company with the ladies.

When I’ve had a little nectar of the grape and find myself in an uncomfortable situation, I turn into a loquacious combination of Ricky Gervais and the Micromachine guy. Neither Vlad or Gigi seemed to notice, as the former’s attention was mostly directed to my bosoms and the latter was clearly hatching an escape plan.

Consequently, Gigi made a case for heading out to the veranda to get an eyeful of the Hudson and New Jersey, which I gleefully agreed to, only to have her turn around and invite Vlad. When we discussed it later at a nearby diner, she claims to have no memory of this.

Location change did nothing for the group dynamic. I got even more talkative, to the point where Vlad asked me if I was on crack. I received this comment with élan, assuring myself I was rubber and he glue. Within seconds of Gigi heading inside to use the ladies’ room, Vlad blurted out that he was married. He had allowed his wife to go to California to study anthropology, which he knew nothing about and wasn’t interested in. This wasn’t a confession, just Vlad’s idea of polite conversation. When Gigi finally returned from the loo, Vlad boldly suggested we go back inside, which I used to segue into Gigi and I being too exhausted to stay out any longer. We threw Vlad into the first cab we could find and hotfooted it to the nearest diner to discuss the events of the evening.

The awkward evening and missing of E!’s showing of Blue Crush 2 did have one positive outcome. This was a harsh enough punishment to break my lifelong habit of tardiness. If showing up egregiously late for things is going to keep ending this way, I vow to be more on time.


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