The Tale of the Missing Button
"She can handle any tragedy that happens but not little things like this" -Water Deep
Sometimes I feel like that line was written about me. Last week, I was in Hoboken, and I was walking back to the boy's apartment after going to a charity bachelor auction. I was in the middle of a shitty week at work, I was cold and tired, I'd been wearing heels all day, and my feet hurt. Grr. Then in the middle of a dark block, I heard something drop to the sidewalk and bounce toward the street. It was a button from my coat. Shit.
This wasn't just any coat. It's a hot pink and purple and green plaid coat that my grandmother bought for my mom in the '60s. It had hung in the back of my mom's closet my whole life, and I always loved it. I finally stole it during my first winter in New York. I needed a warmer coat, and that seemed like a good enough excuse. Last winter, I wore it for a visit to New Hampshire to see Gram. She just lit up when she saw me in the jacket. It made her weekend, and she'd laugh every time I put it on. She remembered where she bought it and how much it was on sale. (It was a real bargain, of course.) That she and my mom had picked out the coat, and then she'd kept going back to check on it until it was marked down enough. That at the same time, she'd also bought a purple coat for my mom's sorority sister Diane. When my mom called on Sunday, the coat was the first thing Gram told her about. This is more than just a coat to me. It reminds me of my grandmother every time I put it on.
So when that button fell and rolled away, I panicked. I just couldn't lose it. I'd never find another button to match. But more than that, it felt like losing part of my grandmother, part of my memory of her. I started searching the sidewalk and the curb and under a nearby parked car. It was dark, and I couldn't see a damn thing. The buttton being a dark green didn't help much. I got out my cell phone to tried to use it as a flash light. I got down on my hands and knees even though I was wearing my good khakis. I called Tina and the boy and begged them to bring a flashlight and come help me. By this point, I was so upset I was crying and probably sounded a little crazy. I kept looking, and when they showed up with a flashlight and a broom, the three of us searched even more.
I'd stopped walking as soon as it fell, so it couldn't have gone that far. I wasn't near any grates or drains for it to fall down. It had to be there. But we just weren't finding it. I was ready to give up and come back and look more in the morning when it was light out. We were about to leave when Tina suddenly shouted. She's found it! It was in a crack in the sidewalk right near the curb. I'm not sure how we'd missed it before, but what matters is that we found it. Tragedy avoided. Now I just need to get it back on my coat (and reinforce all the other buttons to make sure this doesn't happen again).
Who's afraid of a little snow?
Apparently, most of my friends. I had my birthday party last night only a few people showed up. I suppose I should cut you guys some slack since the snow that started that night ended up being a recorded-breaking blizzard (26.9 inches in Central Park). But a good chunk of the people who did show came all the way from Jersey. So either they're really tough, or the rest of you are big wimps.
See, the thing is, I have a history of bizarro birthdays. My 22nd birthday, I was in Dublin, and there was a massive anti-war/anti-Bush/anti-American protest there. And apparently all that protesting worked up an appetite because we ended up wandering all over town trying to find a restaurant that wasn't "booked out." Seriously, it's not just that there was a long wait, they were full for the rest of the night. We finally ended up eating at a T.G.I. Friday's where there was a 45 minute wait and we ended up eating at like 10. My 23rd birthday is up for debate. I had a blast, but it was the night I met a certain Irishman who ended up breaking my heart. Then this year (25th!), we ate dinner at a restaurant that was going out of business or something. It was just baffling. I'd heard good things about this place. It was a trendy-looking restaurant with good atmosphere, but there was no one else there. (Really, there was only one other table of people for the entire two hours we were there.) There were only about 10 items on the menu, and three of them were pasta even though it was a Mexican restaurant. And the service was really bad, even though we were the only ones there. I had a good time, but it felt sort of like being in the twilight zone. Then there's a record-breaking blizzard. Ah well. Perhaps next year I just need to stay in for my birthday. No need to tempt fate to come up with something stranger.
"She can handle any tragedy that happens but not little things like this" -Water Deep
Sometimes I feel like that line was written about me. Last week, I was in Hoboken, and I was walking back to the boy's apartment after going to a charity bachelor auction. I was in the middle of a shitty week at work, I was cold and tired, I'd been wearing heels all day, and my feet hurt. Grr. Then in the middle of a dark block, I heard something drop to the sidewalk and bounce toward the street. It was a button from my coat. Shit.
This wasn't just any coat. It's a hot pink and purple and green plaid coat that my grandmother bought for my mom in the '60s. It had hung in the back of my mom's closet my whole life, and I always loved it. I finally stole it during my first winter in New York. I needed a warmer coat, and that seemed like a good enough excuse. Last winter, I wore it for a visit to New Hampshire to see Gram. She just lit up when she saw me in the jacket. It made her weekend, and she'd laugh every time I put it on. She remembered where she bought it and how much it was on sale. (It was a real bargain, of course.) That she and my mom had picked out the coat, and then she'd kept going back to check on it until it was marked down enough. That at the same time, she'd also bought a purple coat for my mom's sorority sister Diane. When my mom called on Sunday, the coat was the first thing Gram told her about. This is more than just a coat to me. It reminds me of my grandmother every time I put it on.
So when that button fell and rolled away, I panicked. I just couldn't lose it. I'd never find another button to match. But more than that, it felt like losing part of my grandmother, part of my memory of her. I started searching the sidewalk and the curb and under a nearby parked car. It was dark, and I couldn't see a damn thing. The buttton being a dark green didn't help much. I got out my cell phone to tried to use it as a flash light. I got down on my hands and knees even though I was wearing my good khakis. I called Tina and the boy and begged them to bring a flashlight and come help me. By this point, I was so upset I was crying and probably sounded a little crazy. I kept looking, and when they showed up with a flashlight and a broom, the three of us searched even more.
I'd stopped walking as soon as it fell, so it couldn't have gone that far. I wasn't near any grates or drains for it to fall down. It had to be there. But we just weren't finding it. I was ready to give up and come back and look more in the morning when it was light out. We were about to leave when Tina suddenly shouted. She's found it! It was in a crack in the sidewalk right near the curb. I'm not sure how we'd missed it before, but what matters is that we found it. Tragedy avoided. Now I just need to get it back on my coat (and reinforce all the other buttons to make sure this doesn't happen again).
Who's afraid of a little snow?
Apparently, most of my friends. I had my birthday party last night only a few people showed up. I suppose I should cut you guys some slack since the snow that started that night ended up being a recorded-breaking blizzard (26.9 inches in Central Park). But a good chunk of the people who did show came all the way from Jersey. So either they're really tough, or the rest of you are big wimps.
See, the thing is, I have a history of bizarro birthdays. My 22nd birthday, I was in Dublin, and there was a massive anti-war/anti-Bush/anti-American protest there. And apparently all that protesting worked up an appetite because we ended up wandering all over town trying to find a restaurant that wasn't "booked out." Seriously, it's not just that there was a long wait, they were full for the rest of the night. We finally ended up eating at a T.G.I. Friday's where there was a 45 minute wait and we ended up eating at like 10. My 23rd birthday is up for debate. I had a blast, but it was the night I met a certain Irishman who ended up breaking my heart. Then this year (25th!), we ate dinner at a restaurant that was going out of business or something. It was just baffling. I'd heard good things about this place. It was a trendy-looking restaurant with good atmosphere, but there was no one else there. (Really, there was only one other table of people for the entire two hours we were there.) There were only about 10 items on the menu, and three of them were pasta even though it was a Mexican restaurant. And the service was really bad, even though we were the only ones there. I had a good time, but it felt sort of like being in the twilight zone. Then there's a record-breaking blizzard. Ah well. Perhaps next year I just need to stay in for my birthday. No need to tempt fate to come up with something stranger.
1 Comments:
Anne! You cannot stay in for your 26th bday. I will not let you. No matter where I end up for grad school, I AM FLYING BACK IN TO NYC and we are going to continue on in the grand tradition of dual bday parties. - Ms. Sunshine. PS. FYI - on a positive note, how GREAT was our 24th bday party?. And I'm sorry, I was also disappointed that Lani and some of your dear Misszou friends couldn't make it to our bday party, but they LOVE you and so do I.
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