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Monday, November 4 yellow tape and marathons
Yesterday was what you call in my biz a caterer’s nightmare; a wedding the same day as the New York Marathon. After loading our van, we congratulated ourselves on the fact that the kitchen and the wedding were both in Queens. We’d made it from Manhattan to Queens. The nightmare was over. Not. After loading the van, I sent my driver out to the store. I told him to run over to any nearby bodega and buy me some applesauce. I’d had an epiphany about my chutney that morning. “A little apple sauce would be just the right picker upper.” 40 minutes later, he still hadn’t returned. Sergio (my sous chef) and I walked out to the end of the street to look for him. What we found instead were empty streets, blocked off by fire trucks, police cars and lots of yellow tape. The silence was eerie and deafening. We knew it was the calm before the storm of 30,000 runners, but what it felt like to both of us was “911” all over again. I remember the silence of those early days after “911”. It was like the quiet in a snowstorm. The deja-vus almost made me cry. We were now over a half hour late for the reception, our driver was missing and more and more streets were getting blocked off. Sergio tried to hot-wire the van. I started making calls to see if we could find another last minute vehicle. Then Peter, my driver, came back. He had to walk a mile out of his way to get back to us. We piled into the van and began, what should have been a 5-minute drive, but every time we came to a turn a police officer waved us on. After three missed turns, I climbed out of the van and explained that we were on our way to cater someone’s wedding and he, (the cop) was about to ruin the most important day in their lives. “ Anyone who has a wedding the day of the New York Marathon doesn’t deserve to eat,” he said and waved us on. After about 40 minutes, we finally found a back street and a sympathetic cop who let us through to our party location. We were now over an hour behind schedule. Neil (my chef), Sergio and I went into tunnel vision mode. Don’t talk to us. Don’t get in our way, just stay back and let us smoke. Sergio and Neil unloaded, while I set up the international cheese table. By some miracle, we managed to catch up. The food was loaded into the fridge. The herbs chopped. I laid out the last bit of sliced bread and sundried strawberries on the cheese table. We closed the screen to the kitchen, patted ourselves on the backs and then we heard it. It sounded something like a stampede. At 1:30, the guests who were supposed to arrive at 2:30 walked in. Or shall I say charged. Oblivious to the fact that they were 1 full hour early and without even taking off their coats, they stormed over to my (just finished) cheese table and began to eat. “It’s gonna be one of those,” I told Neil and he sighed his (I’ve been in this business to long sigh) and began to un-wrap the cheese we never thought we’d have to use. Aah the glamorous life of a caterer. There were highlights to the day. Watching 30,000 people run over the 59th street bridge, while filling up trays with seared tuna hors d’oeuvres was one of them. But to tell you the truth, I never shook the eerie deja vus Sergio and I experienced together in the morning. Funny.. the things that un-nerve me now; quiet streets and pretty mornings. By the way.. I had an amazing experience a couple of days ago. Two women, Nancy and Kelly who are doing a college research paper that includes the emotional effects of September 11th on the arts, interviewed me. They found me from my web site. They were visiting NYC from San Francisco for just two days but they asked to spend two hours of that time interviewing me (and my girlfriend who came along because she’s convinced that anyone you meet from the internet is a serial killer). We were expecting two 20 year olds to show up and instead two women our age, (let’s just say over 30 okay) arrived. We liked them right away. They asked really intelligent questions. It was a strange experience to be interviewed about my feelings on “911.” I’ve spent a considerable amount of time talking about that day, but having someone, a stranger, interview me like that was very different. My answers did not surprise me. What did was the way I felt. On the one-year anniversary, my (wise) girlfriend so purged me in everything to do with ground zero, that by midnight that day I was ready to move on. And in many ways I have moved on. Yet there in that restaurant over Mexican eggs, I was right back in that moment watching the first tower come down. And yesterday, with Sergio, looking at the yellow tape and the fire truck and hearing nothing but my own heart, I was again sifting through the impossible. What the girls really wanted to know was how “911” has affected me and the answers I gave them that day are not the ones I would have given 6 months ago. They are not even the ones I would give today only a few days later. The truth is I have no idea how “911” has affected me. I may not know for years. Maybe none of us will. In the meanwhile, if you’re planning a wedding, wouldya make a few phone calls first to make sure it’s not the same day as the New York Marathon. Sheeesh!
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