Friday, October 21, 2016

lured to lure

I tell M I won't be able to make dinner. 

The reservation is late because T, M's husband, is arriving late from Boston.

Lure Fishbar is way downtown and I'm uptown.

Traffic on a Friday night is always bad.

I'm working all day and know I'll be exhausted.

And, I'm done work at 6 and dinner isn't until 9. 

But then I re-think it.

I don't see M often.

Dinner is also with M's husband, son Sam, and Sam's girlfriend, all of whom I adore (M's husband would be surprised and embarrassed to read this).

9 isn't that late.

And I'm too young (I want to believe) to rush home on a Friday night to watch Dateline.

So around five I call M and tell her I'm coming.

Work is awful. According to my tracker, I walk 8.5 exhausting miles with little to show for it. I earn $71. 

I have three hours to kill and use it to do nothing. I sit and read and rest my feet.

But it's worth it.

The restaurant is filled, the noise level high, but we have a great little round table. 

Sam knows restaurants and is a pro orderer.  We let him take over with the hors d'oeuvres and sides. It appears he over orders but surprisingly there is not a scrap left.

Lure is recreated as the inside of an exquisite yacht. The tuna tacos and lobster roll alone would make the restaurant worth the trip to Soho. But the food is of course secondary to a night with good friends I've known for over 35 years. And their son whom I first met when he was days old. And his girlfriend whom I've now known for a few years. 

How could I ever have contemplated not coming?



No comments:

Post a Comment