I’m in a bar…a French joint on the Upper East Side nursing an overpriced Chardonnay.
The barmaid, with a freak of nature bust-line, hands me a note.
“I just love your glasses.”
Yeah, heard that one before. Next thing I know, to my surprise, a middle-aged woman sidles up to me and says, “Would you mind if I try on your specs?” Though startled, I say, “No, not at all.”
Feeling like an optometrist for the first time in my life, start discussing frames and why a face the size of mine needs width that rivals the Chesapeake. I bring Jackie O into it saying, she had the same issue as did ET if he were shades shopping. Not getting my joke, this woman, who weighs 8 pounds and sounds like Barbara Walters, says. “I’d like to discuss this further…here’s my number,” scribbling it on a napkin. I watch her leave, a schelppy husband in tow, wondering, if she really expects me to call her.
Cut to…and once again, things are never what they seem, the barmaid who easily could be Miss September says, “It’s very sad. They come in every day…she has tea, he a double scotch. She has early Alzheimer’s and he just carts her around best he can.”
Talk about taking the wind out of your Raybans.
What does this say to me?
The world is in pain…I’m not alone. The likes of this woman who the barmaid said, is rich and was once a very notable doctor in her field of medicine lecturing all over the world, has now been leveled where she can barely remember her own name.
To think this all started over glasses, mine filled with wine, hers tea, with Jackie, our eternal hostess.
If this is God’s idea of humor, he can just go to hell in an eyeglass case.