Best Laid Plans

I left for New York City Friday around 3 pm, thinking it would take maybe 4 hours. I was driving against rush hour and weekend traffic, so I'd be okay. What I didn't count on was the horrendous drivers that came into my path. Sure there was volume. But there was also dangerous weaving, drivers crawling in the passing lane at 55 mph, and cars speeding along at 80 mph on the bumper of the car in front. Talk about a white-knuckle ride. The only satisfying thing was that a little blue car that had been particularly annoying had an accident and was removed from the mix. He wasn't hurt but his poor car was badly smashed. Ungraciously, I cheered.

Turbo and I finally arrived around 7:30. Marty came down to rescue us and went to look for parking. 45 minutes later, I left with Turbo to meet him at the river where we sat outside and had much-needed margaritas. Rats the size of cats ran in front of us. Turbo took it in stride. We had a lot of explaining to do about Turbo's roots. Even in the most diverse place in the universe, bouviers are rare.

By 9:30 we were eating Korean take-out in our apartment and watching the Yankee pre-show. I actually stayed up until nearly midnight.

We were due in Yonkers for a loan closing at 11 am the next morning so we bailed out the car and drove to a branch of our local RI bank. The bad news was, the loan amount was wrong and there was nothing we could do about it since bankers call all the shots. We'd figure out something. As we were driving back to NYC, my cell phone rang. More bad news. The reservation we'd made at Le Bernadin for our anniversary dinner was cancelled due to a small fire in the restaurant earlier that morning. There are a zillion restaurants in NYC so we could easily get a reservation somewhere else, but probably not at a 4-star restaurant. Not that night.

Always known for being relentless, I went on line as soon as we got back and procured a reservation at a top eatery, Jean-Georges. We had the prix-fixe menu, which for me included soft-shell crab, asparagus with morel sauce and sea bass. Marty also had the crab, along with sweetbreads and lamb ribs. The food was excellent as expected. Dessert went a bit off the rails. We both had the chocolate course, consisting of four rich morsels on one plate. Had it ended there, we would have been fine. But no, they brought us a complimentary flan with a marzipan Happy Anniversary sign. Apparently they'd overheard our toast. Then they brought out a huge jar filled with marshmallows--I kid you not. They were awful. On our way out, we were handed a small box in a small bag that contained two chocolates. Wretched excess.

We limped back to the apartment, changed, and took Turbo out to the doggie park. Turbo doesn't know he's a dog, and refuses to socialize with other dogs. He happily accepts human interaction, however. Not wanting the evening to end, and still feeling bilious from the marshmallow, we went down the street for a nightcap.

By 9 am the next morning I was running along the river, enjoying the breeze. Doug was coming for dinner so shopping was in store. It was hotter than the hinges of hell so we moved slowly and canceled plans to look for furniture or go to a museum. We had a delicious meal (no marshmallows) moistened by fine liquor in the air-conditioned comfort of our pied-de-terre.

The ride back to Rhode Island was a breeze. I stopped off at Connie's house in Larchmont for a drink and a chat. The rest of the ride was problem-free .