I’m so annoyed at Camille who was in charge of reservations.
You would think a hotel dining room with a prix-fix menu for 300 bucks would have an extra table, even if it’s in the kitchen.
Am I exaggerating?
Not all that much.
This is why we’re in the bar waiting like hopefuls at a Patti Smith concert.
“How could you have forgotten Camille knowing how quickly the room fills up?”
“I’ve been busy, I told you. Having your living room, eyes and tires redone all at the same time can cause you to miss a thing or two.”
This did not make me feel any better perched on a stool in my new holiday dress, after having not bought one in three years. When Madam suggested we go all out in the name of gratitude, I was straplessly in.
I made it a point, three times, of reminding Camille who insisted on making the reservations, to call because I knew there would be no cancellations since it’s a hotter ticket than Hamilton on Broadway.
I’m surprised scalpers aren’t in front of the hotel doing big business. “HOT SEATS…HOT SEATS…WINGS, BREASTS AND THIGHS.”
Wasps turn out for that turkey like resurrected pilgrims clad in moth eaten Chanel with a considerable amount of tweed about to turn. This is why they have so much extra money for dinner, they never shop and only eat on holidays. But once again, I’m digressing.
Suddenly without fanfare Camille disappears leaving me stranded like a well-dressed Dickens character. Feeling alone in such an empty room, I hear a little voice say, remember who you’re dealing with here Susannah, so replenish your gloss, smooth out your Armani and stop eating those damned chips.
The maidre d’ appears like an apparition, all smiles and says,”Your friend is waiting for you in the dining room.”
As I gather myself in my silk, navy sheath no one would guess was resale, there she is, all aglow, at the best table in the house.
I smile, thinking, how could I have doubted her, saying nothing, as our waiter politely pulls out my chair.
Snoot Family, party of 5, your table’s ready. 🙂 SB