It Was Kind Of Like Airmail

It was as though I had validation late Friday afternoon–on the blog I wrote that morning–when we took in an early evening showing of the new Robert Downey Jr. movie, Due Date. Including the two of us, there was 7 people in the Loew’s MegaSuperUltraTwentyScreenPlex. We really could have gotten away with the Sol Cinema. Then, about three quarters of the way through the movie, a group of five ushers came in and with all the available empty seats in the theater, they apparently detected the look on our faces, obvious even in the dark, that we would have much rather been a party to their plans for after work, so they sat in a “group” in the two rows directly in front of us with the fifth wheel alternating between rows at regular intervals. That’s okay, they’ve seen that movie before, they wouldn’t miss anything. The lambs! Good movie, however; not a blockbuster by any means, but an enjoyable romp for any Robert Downey Jr. fan, with one or two overly-exaggerated moments the movie really could have done without. But, it was funny and touching and at least twice it brought a tear to my eye.

Saturday, as I said was Ariel’s mother’s seventy-ninth birthday party and the staff of Tony Da Caneca’s in Newark ran the event like clockwork, getting us started at 1 and had us caked and coffeed by 5 so Ariel and I could make our way to the city for Brian Regan. Naturally, because we allowed the three hours to accommodate sitting in theater traffic, we breezed right in, through the Lincoln Tunnel and up to our hotel (we’d be going out afterwards with some friends and didn’t want the extra burden of driving home). The Marrakesh, up on 103rd Street is a bit of a ramshackle place, done in, as you might suspect, Moroccan decor. The room was clean and comfy, which is always a plus and the entire bathroom could fit in my new shower stall. I especially enjoyed the ‘you’re my F’ing ho, you done me wrong with my bro’ rap music that blared in the lobby and no one, except me, seemed to be a little perplexed by that. We taxied all over the city, back and forth between our 2-star digs (according to Priceline–hey!, it served its purpose!) and our destinations.

Brian Regan was hysterical, the entire audience was roaring with laughter, well, except the woman in front of me who practically instantly upon taking her seat next to her stocky bodyguard–looking, crewcutted leather jacket wearing companion, fell asleep. Huh? And then she’d wake up periodically, like when the rest of us especially enjoyed a particular joke and erupted in laughter and she’d kind of howl (I guess to fit in with the crowd), put her head back on his shoulder until the next time she felt like joining in.

Outside, Ariel discovered a call had come in from Lou. He, his son and the HVAC guy were going to be at the house by around 8am. Of course we weren’t home, so Ariel reviewed how he’s be able to get in.

We tipped a few beers, and then a few more with our friends after another back and forth to the hotel to change into comfy party clothes and then by 4am we were back in our room.

We pulled into the driveway and the first thing we saw was the dead and mangled deer on the lawn by the curb. The second thing we saw was an empty space where my mailbox used to be. Then, in pretty much the following order, we saw the actual box part laying in front of my next door neighbor’s house, the post on the sidewalk ACROSS the street…across FOUR lanes of traffic and my lawn, on either side of my driveway, torn to shreds. Not exactly the view we were anticipating.

But Lou and crew.2.1 was there and had brought in the police officer’s card that had been attached to the front door with slight detail of what had happened: vehicular incident involving mail box.

Come to find out from my next door neighbor, a young man, mid-twenties, (obviously speeding like a bat out of Hell, the way they do on my street) had veered to avoid running over a dead dear in the road, jumped the curb, took out my mailbox (and lawn) flipped his car and slid, on his side until his car came to rest by my neighbor’s driveway. The driver, fortunately, escaped without a scratch. Luckily I had brought my mail in Saturday morning before we left.

So, now we’ll deal with police reports and insurance claims and seeing if I can get the post office to deliver my mail to my door until we can get a new mailbox put up. Lordy, and this is only Monday.


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2 Responses to “It Was Kind Of Like Airmail”

  1. Donna Says:

    I would have been perplexed by that song playing in the hotel lobby, too. And also perplexed about the sleeping woman at Brian Regan’s show. HA! Sorry about your mailbox and lawn. I’m glad to hear the kid was ok.

  2. Melissa Says:

    Wow. (about the driver and lawn and mailbox)

    I imagine the sleeping lady was on some kind of drugs. That’s what I imagine 🙂

    And wow. (about the driver and lawn and mailbox)

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