It had been a really great evening, in spite of the rain and the fact that Mr. Ginley discovered earlier that he was coming down with some kind of virus.
Being the fossils that we are, it isn't all that often that we venture downtown to see a show at night. Earlier this year, we'd gone to see Alton Brown, who is one of Bill's favorite celebrities. Last night it was my turn, and David Sedaris was the headliner.
We had originally planned to have dinner downtown. However, we'd had a substantial lunch with our kid in Ohio City, and we hadn't yet worked up an appetite. Instead, we braved the raindrops and headed over to Heinen's before the show and shared a couple hunks of tiramisu in the store's mezzanine. We people-watched the wine drinkers and late grocery shoppers, and Mr. pointed to the murals above us and said he read they were painted by a guy who died on the Titanic.
When it got close enough to show time, we walked back to the theatre. I knew Mr. Sedaris would be signing copies of his books, but I figured it would be after the show. However, when we walked in, we saw him already at it. I ran back and bought one of my favorite books of his so I could get it autographed, but by the time I returned, the line was closed off, and the bouncer told me I'd have to wait until afterward.
I enjoyed the show very much (the overlong story about diarrhea notwithstanding). Mr. Ginley is not quite the fan I am, but he did laugh out loud through much of it.
Afterward, he nudged me to run out to the lobby and take my place in line. Unfortunately, four score other people had the same idea, and I waited for about an hour to get my book signed.
Mr. Sedaris was eating a dinner someone had provided and chatting amiably with others in front of me. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but there were smiles and laughter. He had some rubber stamps and was signing books and doing doodles in them.
When he got to me, he said, "Barb" and began to doodle. I don't know why, but somewhere during that long wait in line, a memory came to me.
During the show, Mr. Sedaris talked about how he never got a driver's license but he did miss the experience of yelling at others from the driver's side when they behaved badly in traffic. He spoke about people he met in Europe and all of the unique curses they would fling at other drivers. Many of these were graphic, some of them pretty awful. Not quite the old familiar suggestion ("go f*** yourself), but let's just say the male body part played a prominent role in most of the curses.
So when it came to my turn, I shared that years ago I worked with an Israeli gentlemen, who said in the country of his birth, they used to shake rubber penises at others when they were behaving like jerks in traffic. Mr. Sedaris paused for a moment, then shared a Hungarian epitaph that he'd heard, and said the two sentiments may be related. I agreed.
He then pointed to the artwork in my book and said, "It's barbed wire." I nodded and smiled to acknowledge I got the play on words, and thanked him.
"Are you here alone?" he inquired.
"No, my husband is back there," I replied and waved vaguely behind me.
"It looks like he's biding his time on his cell phone."
I glanced around and saw it wasn't Mr. Ginley but a grizzled old guy who was, in fact, on his cell phone.
"Oh, that's not my husband," I murmured. "He must have wandered off. Thanks again!" And went in search of my significant other, who was engrossed reading about the artwork in the theatre.
On the way home, we navigated the drive-thru at McDonald's, because we were hungry by that time.
All it all, it was a wacky but enjoyable evening.
So appropriate for a David Sedaris experience.
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