A wedding at the Housing Works Book Shop/Cafe in NYC on a Saturday night- how romantic, right? Well, yes, but first we had to get there.
We usually plan out our event arrivals with time to spare for a quick coffee but last night, we were losers. Doors were to open at 7, ceremony at 7:15. But really, 7:15? We allowed for an hour to get us from Paramus to Crosby St in Chelsea and up to the GW bridge we were moving well, as usual, but the West Side Highway, started to dismantle us. No accidents, just volume and lights and we were moving at a snail’s pace, but every time I asked Tuvia if we would make it on time, he assured me that we would and I believed him, sort of.
But we were still bumper-to-bumper on the West Side Highway and that continued as we moved across the Village, on streets we knew well. Yes, we were moving, making progress but so slowly that we sat watching the car clock moving faster than we were. Soon it was 7:15 and we still have 2 miles to go.
Closer and closer, slowly, slowly… 7:30… No way they would start, right?
We were almost there. Parked in a garage and dragging Tuvia along under my umbrella. He wasn’t happy and I was anxious. Just a couple of blocks? Actually yes, just a couple of blocks… we were there and as we entered the space I remember fondly from HVWP Writing Marathons, wedding music was blaring, and familiar faces welcomed us with news that the ceremony we missed had been wonderful.
What a way to arrive, right. Tuvia was off. He found himself a free space, resting against shelves of book gems and now, I needed to get a smile from him even if it was just for one picture. and yes, he obliged.
He was hungry. Could he find something? I myself gravitated to the liquor table and downed a delicious glass of red wine, sharing a moment with ultimate friend, Hilda who brought me into this family years ago, when I was just unpacking my bags and acclimating to my new home.
Tuvia was not in a mood to enjoy the wedding that began without us. We were still both out of sync, and even though the space was unique, the music for wedding dancing was loud and familiar.
But we were surrounded by lots of familiar faces who embraced us and caught us up. We found a table near the family of the bride and both of us found our rhythm. So yes, it was good to be there.
After some food, dessert and coffee and conversation we were ready to call it a night. I found Jaime, handed over our envelop to a beaming bride soon off to her honeymoon, and with my pink umbrella in hand we headed back to our car and home.
BUT… the ride home was once again, a wagon trail journey. Houston Street was filled with cars, construction and lights and no one was willing to cooperate so it was everyone for him/herself and I let no one get in my lane.
We moved at another snail pace to the FDR Drive… and once there… more of the same. But with Tuvia in the passenger seat, we were in this together and no need to race home. Once we were riding up and back to the GW, the road finally cooperated and opened for us. Back on route 4 we agreed that we needed to enjoy a waffle/strawberries/coffee at our Suburban Diner before we arrived home and it was good!
Home before midnight!