Worth Every Penny (And Trust Me, I Counted)
Maybe it's the air. The pollution. Probably the people. It is expensive. And there is graduate school to consider. Whatever the reason, my friends are leaving New York in droves. Droves I tell you!
One of my favorites, Lindsay, is packing up and moving to Portland, Maine with her boyf, and I'm pretty sure the main reason is so that they can buy 500 cats and go kayaking. (And who can blame them?) So last night, as a final hurrah, we went to the prestigious Cafe Gray in the Time Warner Center for martinis (I know, I lied.), friendship, dream analysis and 14 handfuls of cocktail peanuts.
In the midst of the revelrous/somber farewell chatting taking place, word travelled to us that a big celebri-tay-tay was in the dining room, separated from the bar by some mirrored wooden pillars. And this wasn't just some fly-by-night starlet or brainless heartthrob or weathered rock star.
This was Jerry Seinfeld. King of the Jews. Sultan of Semitism. I mean, if we were allowed to believe in two Gods, he'd be the other one.
And a finely abbed one at that.
But it's New York, right? So what? Seinfeld is here. BFD.
And yet, no matter how hard I craned my neck, I could not see him for the life of me. It was beginning to ruin my evening. My friend would be all "The moving trucks are coming at..." and my brain would be all "What is the deal with mirrored wooden pillars? I mean are they for decoration? Holding the roof up? Should I stare at myself, or at the pillar?" (As it is obvious, I am no Seinfeld.)
The only thing more exciting? A gorilla eating matzah.
Let's be real here: Seinfeld (the show) is hands down the best sitcom ever. It never gets old, never tired. And here was the half-mastermind and star. I mean, I eat dinner in bed with this man almost 3 nights a week, and sometimes fall asleep to the sound of his voice. I'd venture to say that no other show has ever made me laugh more often or consistently. Or made me prouder of my sheisty Jew status. And to see him on the eve before "Holocaust Rememberance Day"!
Yet, I couldn't locate him. I let it go for a few minutes, kept on chatting. That's when the bill came. My two martinis added up to $40. FORTY DOLLARS. Nearly a month's worth of cable, or 2 ill-fitting cardigans from T.J. Maxx. 40 bucks!
Weh-hell. For $40, I don't care how it's gonna happen: I'm seeing Seinfeld.
My friend, wisely, let me go into the dining room on my own. I did a casual scan of the room but didn't see him. "How can I be of service, Madame?" said a friendly maitre' d. "OH! Haha, hello! I just wanted to take a look at the dining room -- we've been cooped up at the bar." I realized I had only 15 more seconds of scanning before it became too obvious. "Absolutely!" said the nice man. I needed to buy some time, he wasn't leaving. I dropped the name of someone I knew who worked in the kitchen. I'm not even sure what words were leaving my mouth -- my brain was all rods and cones, rods and cones. "Would you like to say hello?" he graciously offered. Time, time, time, time. "No, no! That's quite alright" Scanning scanning -- THERE!! FOUND HIM!!! SEINFELD YAYYYYYYYY!!!!!!
Sadly, he did not invite me to join his party. And I had makeup on!
He was sitting with his back to the bar. I'm happy to report that Mr. Seinfeld is not, as I often believed, a huge brain sitting in a jar of formaldahyde. He is, in fact, more put together than I would have guessed (in a lovely suit), and from what I could gather, really likes to chew. It would seem this way because I only looked at him for 2 seconds, and he was in the middle of a really good chew. Again, I didn't stare -- always a lady! -- but I DID need vizh confirmaysh.
I'll say it again: I'm a New Yorker!
$40 for 2 drinks and a glance at one of my idols? A totes bargoon. Oh, and a good 14 pounds of peanuts. Thanks again, Cafe Gray!