Daisy Bateman

Thursday, Part One: The Group

Slept. Late, but not that late. Had time at least for a shower and a brief (but, sadly, failed) attempt to do something to my hair before Karen called and we agreed to meet up on our way to Cornelia’s. Had a little more time to stop at a Starbuck’s for a drinkable breakfast, because I walk fast.

Sociological Theory of the Day: Proposed: That New Yorkers do not jaywalk at any and all opportunities, including but not limited to when the light has just changed, when the light is just about to change, when the light may at some point change and when the oncoming traffic is far enough away not to hit them as long as they slow down, because of any outlaw spirit of the city but because with so many people to move so much of the time, the traffic must be maintained at the maximum possible flow or the entire system sill collapse. It’s one theory, anyway.

Cornelia, her sister Freya and her friend Heidi (not present) were staying at a very lovely and chic midtown hotel, the name of which escapes me for the moment but I’m pretty sure it begins with a W. Sharon (writing group) and Juliann (Sharon’s partner) were already there, and we all proceeded to badger Cornelia into a maximum state of nervousness by telling her she had nothing to be nervous about until it was time to go to lunch.

Lunch was at the Carnegie Deli, famous for being famous with the random celebrity pictures coating the walls to prove it. The dining rooms twisted around on themselves through the building and we got a cool little nook way up in back, along with a waiter who had some comprehension issues and framed photos of Florence Henderson, Roy Shneider (promo pic from Jaws), John Stevens (redheaded kid from American Idol a couple of years ago) and many, many others.

Sample conversation with the waiter:
Sharon: I’d like the chicken soup and a diet Pepsi.
Waiter: It’s only Coke.
Sharon: Okay, that’s fine.
Waiter: One Coke.
Sharon: Diet Coke.
Waiter: Diet?
Juliann: She can taste the difference.
Waiter: Okay, diet. But you still want the beef soup, right?
(Everybody laughs. Waiter does not laugh, looks confused. All assembled realize that perhaps he was not joking.)
Sharon: No, chicken soup.
Waiter: Okay, chicken soup.

I will say, though, my bagel and lox were delicious.

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