Last night I took a late train into Old Greenwich. It pulled in around 11:15 PM, and I was pretty stoked that I wouldn't have to walk to Le Doug's house, since I figured he left the car in station's parking lot a few days ago when he left for Denver. I had the extra keys in my hand, I just needed to find the car. That late at night, it wouldn't be too hard too find the car, right? Wrong.
The car was not in the lot. There were a handful of cars, none of which were Doug's little 5-series Beamer. There was one 7-series at the far end of the lot, but that was not my chariot.
What to do? I was cold, and I was banking on driving the half mile home. With no car, I had to walk home. It wouldn't take more than ten minutes, but ten minutes in the dark in October can get really spooky. (Vampires! Boogey Men!) Case in point: there was a middle aged guy walking ahead of me, and on the corner by the library he just...stopped. Worse was that was wearing a tan raincoat, so immediately I thought he was a flasher. As I passed, I realized he was reading some sort of program from an art exhibit. In the middle of Sound Beach Avenue? At almost 11:30 PM? Wacky. I kept walking, since Doug's house was just over the hill. As I walked up the hill a car pulled up next to me, which was driven by an Asian woman. I figured she was going to ask directions, so I put on my polite face. Instead she rolled down her window and said, "Would you like a ride, miss?"
Would I like a ride? Was I seven years old? In this day and age, what stranger offers another stranger a ride? In the middle of the night? How did she not know I wasn't a serial killer? And what made her think I would get into her car to begin with? I politely declined and told her I was just over the hill, which I was. Still, it was creepy. Or maybe she was just being nice.
I still have no idea where the car is. No, it's not in the garage. I already checked there. Any ideas, kids?
The weekend is nigh and there is much going on. Tonight I am going to the opening of a new nightclub called The Grand. Supposedly Nick Lachey is the guest of honor. I am so there, if only to gawk and poke fun. Let the heckling begin!
Sadly, I am going to miss the cat show at Madison Square Garden this weekend. Mozart, my orange Persian, was supposed to be a show cat, had he not lost a front tooth. That is why he ended up in the shelter where Doug and I got him. Someone didn't want him because he wasn't good enough to be a show cat. Their loss, my gain. He's still a superstar.
The Russian Film Festival opens today. Can we say free vodka? Nazdrovia!
