I think every person who comes to New York should crack their wallet open a little wider than normal and splurge on a lunch at a Midtown Hotel. I walked in there on beautiful Saturday afternoon and was completely amazed at all the marble lining the walls, not to mention the columns jutting up into the ceiling in the dining room.

Felt like I was back in Europe.

But as I grabbed a seat at the bar and ordered a glass of wine and a lovely mediterranean pizza for something to pick at, I was overjoyed to find that the waiters were just as bitchy as any group working out of a diner. A really wonderful group of guys and gals just moaning and complaining nonstop, all of which I could catch from my vantage point next to the service station. And the food and wine were quite lovely as were all the guests, mostly tourists who had thankfully left behind their white tennis shoes and bad T-shirts.

So I'm changing this small section. Had to take it down. Sorry. But I just got someone in trouble. Yes, for those who might have been doubting my veracity. Someone actually got caught and fired because I played it too close to the line. So at the request of the waiter, I've removed this section.

Instead, I've combed my vast pile of literature and have inserted in it's place a section of Dante's Inferno:

With hounds trained and eager he had sent the restaurant manager to the front before him, and after short run the father and sons seemed to me spent, and with the sharp fangs I seemed to to see their flanks torn open. When I awoke before morning I heard the waiters cry, who were with me, crying in their sleep and asking for tips Thou art cruel indeed if thou grieve not now, thinking my heart foreboded, and, if thou weep not, at what dost thou ever weep. (Dante: The Divine Comedy)
7:41:16 AM     comment []