Dec 11, 2004

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way

Time for another story. At dinner a few nights ago with my mother, step-father and my son I recalled an event at my brother's wedding that they didn't know about. I'll warn you right now that this is a long and wandering tale. Literally!

My brother was married in December, 2001 in midtown Manhattan. The wedding and reception was held in a wonderful authentic South Indian restaurant called Utsav Festive India (Utsav is Hindi for "festival"). It was a wonderful day. The bride's family, a close American/Indian family mostly living in Upstate New York were all there, and we had all traveled down from Toronto for the occasion. Lots to tell about that day (ask me about dinner forks for starters...).


C. helped himself to some serious spicy Indian food...
But he ate it all, and even returned for seconds!


The day after the wedding we had all gathered at the home of my new sister-in-law's friend for brunch. (Name dropping: My sister-in-law was a guest on the Martha Stewart Show for an entire episode on Indian cooking. She's an amazing cook. Her friend is "a handbag designer" who had just moved into a two million dollar home on West Fifth with her husband - who owns a chain of gourmet groceries.) As the day progressed we all peeled off for various flights home. My sister went straight from the brunch to the airport with her husband and two daughters. I stayed longer with my son and girlfriend (she's a whole other series of stories). We wanted to make our way back uptown to the Rockerfeller Center to see the Christmas Tree and the shop at the Pokemon Store (don't ask!) before collecting our luggage from the W Hotel.

My sister convinced me to take her stroller with us and bring it back on our flight, so we headed off to the subway with the empty stroller. But as we got closer to the Rockerfeller Center the crowds got thicker and thicker. After about ten minutes of struggling with this useless stroller I made an executive decision. The stoller was cheap, worn out, and almost out-grown. I abandoned it... Sorry Sis. Un-encumbered we were able to enjoy ourselves and get everything done.


Remember Pokemon? We do.

It was as we wandered back to our hotel near Times Square that the whole trip tied itself together. We'd been travelling in all directions and most of the day we didn't have a good idea of where we were. But somehow we managed to walk right back past our abandoned stroller! My first thought was "Some poor family has abandoned their stroller too." My second thought was "Wait. That's our stroller!" My third thought was "Why hasn't it been stolen yet? Damn it, it can stay there." It would have been a problem all over again at the airport.

To top it all off, coming from a new direction the block looked familiar. We were literally on the steps of the restaurant the wedding had been held in the day before.

New York City ain't so big...

Update - I was listening to: A cover of Van Morrison's My Sad Lonely Eyes (iTunes Store link) by Maria McKee from You Gotta Sin to Get Saved, and Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes (iTunes Store link) by Paul Simon from Graceland.

9 comments:

  1. I wish I could meander around New York City. It's an age old fantasy of mine. I won't tell you what makes it a fantasy rather than a dream.

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  2. Humbug! :-) I hope you dream comes true some day, some way...

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  3. You posted it! Good for you. It's funny because I agree with you. Not any good stories, just happen to pass stuff and I think: Okay, weren't we just HERE an hour ago but we walked..... the other direction. How did this happen?
    M still loves Pokemon. Cute shots of your boy. :)

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  4. Thanks ladies! I do it all for you...

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  5. I pray every night you will never have to suffer the true horror of an authentic East Indian wedding.

    Thank God for white people.

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  6. Adeel, you got something against seven days of dancing? Come on, loosen up!

    :-)

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  7. Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes is a great one. It's also featured on one of my favorite Paul Simon albums: Negotiations and Love Songs.

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  8. Excuse me but where is your quiz bub?

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