Dave Barry always says that your nice friend who treats waiters badly isn't your nice friend. I have always wholeheartedly agreed, and yesterday it gave me the chance for a fun prank.
Paul and I had a rare Brickell meeting -- he comes in probably every three to four months. We hoped to have lunch with Stuart, but that was a non starter as Stu also rarely comes to the office before 2 or so. Ah -- old lawyers.
Anyway, Paul and I did some work over lunch at North Italia, and then decided to walk around the now Manhattan like 'hood. Paul has worked around there since 1972, when he was at the firm where we met on Coral Way just off Brickell, and I started there in 1988. The amount of building and pedestrian traffic, almost everyone far younger than I, and I am 11 years younger than Paul. I often borrow the Cormac title and change it: this is no city for old men.
On our way back to the building, we passed by the amazing new condo, Brickell Flatiron. Like its namesake in NYC, it's build on a triangular plot, but this one is much taller and luxurious. The restaurant on the ground floor is a flashy, high end Asian place called Sexy Fish. Stu has been there and was unimpressed -- $200 for a sushi dinner that was only ok.
But we wanted to check it out, as the place has glass sculptures and furnishing that are a mix of Disney and Vegas. It was late lunch time, and the place was packed.
We walked in, and were greeted by two hosts, a smiling gay Black man, and a striking beautiful young woman. The woman had a Southern accent, and loads of superior attitude -- reminded me of the president of a Southern sorority at maybe Alabama -- like Kappa Delta.
At UF, they say KD stands for Christian Daughters, and all the girls are Southern Belles. I was reminded of a hilarious tale from D2's rush year -- 2010. UF required pledges to visit ALL sororities, even ones where everyone knew they would never end up -- like KD for the nice Jewish girl from Miami.
So D2 met the rush representative, who charmingly inquired about her unusual name. D2 replied it was a Hebrew name, and the KD girl said "Oh, and are YOU a Hebrew?" D2 calmly said "Well, I'm Jewish -- Hebrews were the ancient tribal name of our people." And everyone laughed, apparently, though not as much as I did when I heard the tale.
Anyway, the modern KD was very dismissive. In fairness, Paul was asking lots of questions about the property, and the shiksa goddess seemed to hope we two older guys, not well dressed, would simply disappear.
Paul was unaware of this slight, and proceeded to wander around the place. I turned to the nice gay guy, though I could tell the beauty was listening, and said "You know -- my friend is the owner of a hedge fund, and is in the process of relocating here from Philly. He's scouting out venues to host his staff -- about 300 high level finance types are moving here."
It was if I had flipped a switch on the Southern beauty. She stopped writing, visibly. She turned to me and said "Well I would be the one to help with special events. Here's my card -- make sure y'all call me anytime."
I kept a poker face, and said I was just a local lawyer, but was most excited about my friend moving his major operation to town. You could almost tell the previously dismissive hostess was almost physically aroused.
Clearly, older normal guys aren't worth her time, but billionaires...
I said goodbye. Paul thought I was silly -- he and I share so much fraternal closeness, but very different senses of humor. As I turned back, the gorgeous hostess gave me a flirty wave and a wink. Wow -- just moments before Paul and I were just some annoying mosquitoes.
Paul still wants to visit -- his wife loves places like that. And the truth is, it DID sound fun -- around 10 pm apparently they turn down the lights and it becomes more of a club than restaurant.
In the 90s, the Grove had such a place --Mezzanote. We had some great times there -- even Wifey got up on the table and danced -- using my head as a bannister.
I am my father's son. In his retirement days, he would pull pranks, too, like his finest, at a Delray Publix. He was waiting for my Mom, and his fellow Greatest Generation Jews were grumbling about the wait at the bakery.
Dad turned to the loudest complainer and said "Well -- the reason for the wait is that they're giving free rye breads to the first 30 people here." Rye bread is, of course, the staple food of my people.
The man started shouting "I demand my free rye bread!" Soon a battle cry was raised by many in line "We want our free rye breads!!!!!"
Dad said a nerdy looking bakery manager had to stand up on the counter and say "Remain calm. There are no free rye breads. That is a false rumor."
Mom came by and retrieved the mischief maker and they headed back to Kings Point.
I like to think my prank had a more solid basis -- exposing a young poseur and would be arriviste. Hell -- if she ever learned the truth, she'd probably say "Well -- what do you expect from a couple of Hebrews?"
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