Today’s Mother’s Day tip: make those brunch/lunch/dinner reservations.
All Ann ever really wants on Mother’s Day is to have brunch at the Gideon Putnam, so when I forgot to make reservations it was a pretty big deal. It’s a very popular day there, and if you don’t book a month ahead, you’re screwed. Having blown my one responsibility, I did what men have always done in a crisis: I obfuscated. She asked, “You made reservations, right?” “Hahahahahahahaha. Why wouldn’t I have made reservations?” Meanwhile, a cold bead of sweat ran down my spine.
Mother’s Day rolled around and the butterflies swarmed in my gut. We arrived at the Gideon -six of us- and I fake smiled my way right down to the Georgian Room. I approached the hostess and ratcheted the obfuscation up to boldfaced lying. “Hi! Madeo? Eleven o’clock…for six?” The woman scanned her book. She turned the page. She turned it back. She looked at me. She looked down. “Of course,” she said. “Just one moment.” She scurried over to someone who had to be the manager. She tapped the book and shrugged her shoulders. He made a face and gestured to a table by the window. I pretended not to notice all this, but I’ve never been more interested in anything in my life.
It was a great Mother’s Day. It could have been my last.