Thursday, April 28, 2011

Avery Searches for a Bloody Mary

Step one of my New York mea culpa was let Jack know exactly how committed I was to mending and fortifying our relationship. Jasper and I immediately sprang into action the morning after my arrival. Well, not immediately.


Following the previous night’s wine binge, Jasper and I woke with awful hangovers. Jasper’s husband Robert, who makes the best red snappers in the universe, had already left for his office. We were forced to fend for ourselves. After multiple false starts and four cups of coffee, we managed to dress and leave the apartment.

Jasper’s neighbor gave us the strangest look as we stepped into the small passenger elevator. We must have like a gay Eddie and Pasty. "Absolutely Fabulous" gone wrong. Jasper was outfitted in an all-black ensemble. In spite of the fact that we were in a dimly lit space, his Wayfarers were firmly in place. The casual elegance of my typical Banana Republic duds was belied by the sleep crusts still in my eyes.


The sun worked overtime as we stepped onto Park Avenue. “Jeez, that moon’s bright,” one of us whispered in reference to that classic Rosalind Russell film. Like a couple of well-dressed pilgrims, we trudged down the Avenue, eventually making our way over to Madison. We entered a French bistro, and the maĆ®tre d’ greeted Jasper by name. After a few pleasantries, we headed directly for the bar. Bloody marys and oeufs await!

Why is that first sip of a bloody mary so amazing? The salt of the tomato juice, countered by the spice of the pepper, horseradish and Tabasco provides a heavenly respite to weary hung-over taste buds. Some might argue that it’s almost better than an orgasm. Almost.


Drinks in hand, Jasper and I were able to get down to business. His first suggestion was that I send a gift with a nice note, letting Jack know that I was thinking of him. As corny as it sounds, it was the type of thing that Jack would (or so I thought) appreciate. What’s more, it was number 14 on the list.

The only question left was what to send. Flowers? Chocolate? A Strip-o-gram? Every option seemed too cheesy, too gay or too tasteless. Our discussion was interrupted by the waiter who laid our brunch before us with dramatic presentation. It’s amazing how helpful food and drink are to the creative process. One bite and two drinks into our strategy session, and we knew exactly what I should send to Jack.

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