Saturday morning I served two iced teas only, both to the same woman. The #1 lunch server in North America took it to the East Coast Only for a buffet of 40 celebrating a 60th birthday party. Two of the family & friends were under 30, approximately, and everyone else was over and up. They did not drink iced teas Saturday morning, but plenty of gin & tonics, blood marys forget about it. I used a beverage tray, under heard of under those circumstances & rarely used at the Grill, which is built for speed, direct delivery of freshly made drinks & big bold flavors. Lunch was a piece of cake… for me. For the rest of the revelers & wellwishers lunch was a piece of pecan pie or key lime, and they had to choose.
At home after the service period I laid on the couch and read Joan Didion’s excellent piece in the New York Times magazine & eventually fell asleep. I dreamt about elephants with toyguns in an artificial environment specially built for them on the moon, where weightlessness gave them newfound flexibility & intense intelligence, from where they plotted to launch an invasion of Earth, in the year 2001, using terrifying time machines which send elephants into exceptionally fast orbit, and back to the year 2001, where they come jumping out of the burning World Trade Center.
Upon waking, the first thing I realized was that I was going to have to eat roast beef very soon, or my life energy might lapse and I’d drift back to the dream of the elephants. I drove over the Tobin Bridge and then down to the waterfront to the drivethru of my favorite Chelsea waterfront-area Roast Beef drivethru. Rileys, is the name, although Allan from Cheapo’s says the roast beef there tastes like dog shit. It does not, but since he said that I do order mine to be pastramified, cause Lord knows that takes of the fecal factor. The pastrami is hot at Riley’s, though the process of pastramification tends to paste the meat to the wax paper wrapper. Other than the equivalent of 4 peanut butter cups & 5 peanut butter cookies, a Big One Pastrami and One Large Curly were it for my stomach Saturday.
When I came out of my pastrami-coma I nearly scratched my pure-white Faith car in a minor parking fender bender (Thank god it’s 100% fiberglass like a boogie board). I dallied on the computer and with the new Harper’s until I fell back to sleep, and the roast beef sure enough took care of the surly space elephant high-speed invaders. All that shit was buried under a mountain of mostly Pastramified Riley’s Roast Beef & I was able to maintain a steady sleep until late Sunday afternoon. I was wearing an all-fleece outfit, which was soft when I wore it around the house, but acted as velcro for keeping me in bed. I didn’t even drink any coffee at all on Sunday because I woke up so late.
Sunday afternoon was a bit cool, but I read Frank Rich and the rest of Week in Review on the deck. The vibes were chill. Music was blapping several houses beyond, flourescent lime-green vested Public Workers were laughing like hyenas by the public works & Frank Rich was speaking the Gods’ honest truth. Being out in the air reminded me of my personal conviction that life works in 4 year cycles, the same as Presidential elections. 4 years ago at this time I was out on my own for the first time in the quickly darkening streets of the South Loop & 4 years later I remember how freedom felt for the first time. Autumn is the season of memories.
Maureen Dowd was on Meet the Press 9/25/05 morning.