Logistics, Mayhem, Mussels, Curtain Up, Light the Lights

Took the car last night to retrieve the roommate from his month-long trip to Hawaii and Napa... No, not a bit jealous... anyway, couldn't find the entrance to the Van Wyck Expressway and ended up well past Jamaica and heading out to Long Island... In the dark... In the rain, clutching the steering wheel like a life raft and nose to windscreen with demented stress.

For those who know me, ever since I got back from extended stays in Australia and South Africa, I can't for the life of me seem to remember how to drive in the US. I mean I know how a car operates and all, but it's the left hand drive thing that gets me now. I had my own car in Oz and was distinctly proud of myself for figuring out how to drive on the other side of the car, on the other side of the road in about five to ten minutes without much drama.

This hubris was of course repaid manifold by my current and complete inability to remember how it works on this side of the pond--compounded with a trip to the Poconos last May where, I swear to almighty God, I plowed straight into a very large dead deer in the very-visible center of the highway (current roommate didn't warn me because he thought it would be stressful--the man has a level of calm about some things that approach Zen) and ripped off the rear fender of his car... also in the night... also in the rain... While this led to a conversation party piece that refuses to die, said roommate still had me handle his parking while he was away and also had no problem with me volunteering to come and fetch him from JFK. That's either extreme trust, or a willingness to gamble that might need a support group.

At any rate, got him and his lost luggage home and--as Hawaii-to-East Coast jet lag is the kind that will not die (despite a week in Wine Country), I had made a dinner that I could marinate and prep the hell out of in order to just get it on the table: Moules a la Marinieres, Pear Salad with Julia's phenomenal vinaigrette and a Salmon marinated with soy sauce, fresh squeezed orange juice (still had 'em from last weeks excursion down Juilienne Lane with that Duck), ginger, honey, garlic, tomato, salt, pepper, etc., and a bottle of Pinot Grigio.
...and a Flexeril.

Tonight, I put on the Armani tux that has been gathering dust since August and head out to the Broadway Premiere of Ragtime and the subsequent and apparently final opening night party at Tavern on the Green.

Nero fiddles his last here in the Big Apple for that grand old tradition. Glad to have at least made it to two. As Old New York fades into less attractive, dumbed-down New York for the cultural void who think Rodgers and Hart is a department store, I can at least fuel my Kitty Carlisle Hart fantasy of being part of the Old/Aulde version if only for a wee while.
Even though Armani on the F train is more than a little sad.