An extremely social weekend is now coming to a close, one that included not one, but two nights at our favorite restaurant. The first was an impromptu drop-in Friday evening. The weather was warm, the sun was still shining and Oliver and I found ourselves standing on a sidewalk downtown, physically unable to make ourselves return to our apartment and have a responsible, economical evening at home.
Instead we jumped in a cab for a sundowner in our favorite haunt, the idea being that perhaps we’d pick up a pizza on the way back. But after one of the worst cab rides in the world where the driver took us down random, strange streets, at times too fast or way too slow, and then capped it all off by farting in the car and rolling down his window only, thereby wafting all odors in my general direction with no way out…well we were pretty much happy to stay in a nice place where everybody knew our name and were (as always) glad we came.
It was a great people watching evening.
Taking the largest share of space and resources was a birthday party populated with ex-model types obviously now retired and married to rich Munich men. The air was thick with preservatives and silicone.
The best part of the party apparently happened after we left. A local fixture in the building came down to visit the establishment, presumably to show off her new dirndle. She’s rarely been seen sober and that night was no exception. She’d made it to the doorway when her skirt – too big – fell to her ankles, bundling around her feet. Too drunk to really even see straight and definately too drunk to bend down, she instead chose to stand in the doorway to contemplate the situation at hand.
Guests kept arriving for the ex-model party inside but were too intimidated to move the half-dressed and very inebriated old woman out of the way. So they too, simply stood there and contemplated the sitaution at hand.
Pretty quickly one of the owners notices the traffic jam building up and walks outside to find out the cause. Seeing the woman there and the goggling crowd growing around her, he swooped in, pulled her skirt up in one hand, offered her his other arm like a true gentleman and,
as he guided her around back to her apartment to sleep it off, kissed her on the forehead, said loudly to no one in particular,
“Ah mama, drunk again?”