An Aunt in New York

The aunt descended on Friday and, true to form, she tested my self confidence. You see, if I were younger or less secure, she could really embarrass the shit out of me. Thank God I have gotten to the point in my life where I can just grin and bear it.

She waltzed into my office to pick me up from work as planned, and of course to meet my co-workers. My infamous boss was in, so naturally an introduction had to be made. Watching them together was as humorous as it was uncomfortable. It was "battle of the talking heads"! They both love nothing more than talking about themselves, so each would begin a story only to be interrupted by the other with a tidbit about how this story related back to her, and on and on it when. That is, until aunt made an announcement. She wanted to present something to me in front of my boss. UUUUUUGH! I knew what was coming as soon as the words came out of her mouth.

She began her speech by expressing the importance of a general's coin in military culture, calling it a soldier's most prized possession (believe me, it is not) and proceeded to tell the story about how I gave the coin I received by General Petraus in Iraq to my brother when he graduated from the Marines. Triumphantly she declared that she had a new coin, from the now 4 star General Petraus, to present to me. I reached out to take the coin from her and she recoiled, she said, "come-on you know how to do it right!" requiring me to take it during a handshake.

After this ridiculousness, my boss actually teared up a bit, something very unnatural for her. She exclaimed: "My ex-boyfriend from high school died on a plane next to me and they found a coin in his pocket!" Ever the narcissist, it still came back to her! Thank God.

I think it is clear that I do not care about Army shit anymore. It was a part of my life, but now I have other things. Give me a spatula from Chef Eric Rippert and I will be excited, a coin from a general I never liked to begin with, what am I supposed to do? Jump for Joy? Cry? I don't think so. D. summed it up best, he asked me, "Is she a military groupie?" Ah, that is the best explanation I have ever heard!

Well, after that I had made reservations at the Season 1 Top Chef winner Harold's restaurant. I was pretty excited to check it out. I cleared it with her before making the reservation. She had mentioned she wanted to go to a bistro. Well, I found a few French bistros and then Harold's American bistro. As soon as we left my office she began talking about pasta. WTF. I mentioned that I would have found us a great Italian place if that was what she had mentioned, she replied that she had. No, you asked for bistro, not Italian, bistro. She conceded. D was running a bit late, and I knew she was not feeling my restaurant pick anymore, so I began looking for other options.

In the mean time she called an old friend of her's who lives in New York. He only lives a half mile north of me, so we decided to meet him for drinks. He also made us a reservation at a French bistro below his apartment. We gladly would have walked, but aunt was tired and preferred to wait 15 minutes for a cab. No matter, when we arrived, it was a fabulous little sidewalk bistro.
I asked for wine immediately.

There was an older man and a young woman at the table next to us, and he kept trying to talk to us, while she embarrassed, tried to stop him. It was clear he had had a stroke or some other mind altering ailment, and sweet D patiently spoke to him. It was touching to see that kind of compassion. The next set of guests next to us were a beautiful, hip couple with a baby. We spoke to them briefly and found out the man was French and the woman African. That is why I love New York, it is a city of casual friends and conversations. This is a sentiment I cannot share with the aunt, who hates New York and is an LA fanatic. Se la vi.

The food was good, not amazing, but good. We had beet salad, french onion soup and calamari to start; beef bourginon, seared bass with spinach and potato and cassoulet for dinner; and a truly terrible caremel flan and proifitols for dessert. Despite this, this weather was perfect, the wine flowed and the experience was good overall.

Her friend Vega joined us for dessert and then brought us up to his apartment for another glass of wine. Ah wine, I generally only drink it in celebration, but it also serves as my secret weapon for surviving family gatherings! Vega was absolutely charming and I see us becoming friends on our own, an absolutely wonderful, unexpected surprise.

The next morning I joined her for a small breakfast and lots of coffee before taking her to Grand Central to put her on a bus to La Guardia. Our conversation was typical and shallow and in a way that is a bit sad. As I have grown up we could have developed a friendship. She was, at one time, an interesting, fun, charming woman. We crossed paths though. As I came into my own, she retreated into a judgemental, semi-religious nag with her grating personality traits becoming her primary ones. I have grown a thick enough skin to tolerate this in small doses, but not to enjoy her company. Oh well, I survived another aunt experience and even made a new friend! Alls well that ends well.