It was a balmy night, and the night air was thick and barely breathable, like a polluted milkshake. But dipping into wellsprings of courage and driven by a desire to reconnect with visiting dignitaries, braving obscene humidity; extreme exhaustion; light, semi-baptismal rain; and poor directions, they came from the four corners of the world: Jerusalem, Montreal, the Upper West Side, and New Brunswick. Their destination: a lounge on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, for the Spontaneous 2005 Jewlicious Leadership Summit. The Occasionally Fantastic Four had last convened under the aegis of a good doctor last November, and the reunion was, as reunions often are, both long overdue and a huge tease.
In an effort to throw off blog counterspies, the four arrived separately, provoking no suspicions from the LES hipsterati. The first two to arrive uttered the code words to the server: “We’d like an order of asparagus,” which officially kicked off the gathering. Stragglers were ribbed about their tardiness by those who had already arrived, and shared tales of being lost above and beneath ground.
After noting the notable absences of themiddle and michael, the meeting commenced with the ceremonial ordering of cocktails, with only minimal concern from one of the men as to the wussiness quotient of ordering pink drinks, and with the ladies following their hearts to the minty freshness of mojitos. The Four spoke in hushed tones of gimpy camels and the reproductive abilities of mermaids, and of past excursions to that thing at Hillel with the art exhibit. Bulls tried to mate with monkeys, and then monkeys with mermaids. And there was whiskey. And then beer. And vodka. And narcoleptic computer geeks of Moroccan extraction. And at the end, like some recurring nightmare or running gag, instead of creme brulee, more asparagus.
And at the end of it all, right before we were scattered to the winds –once again reliant on our wits and subway maps to ferry us home–I was appointed the scribe, the Anthony Michael Hall to our Jewlicious non-Breakfast Club, who would record it all in obscure, pointless, yet painstaking, detail, right down to the irony of our clandestine meeting having transpired mere feet from an American Apparel store.
Layperson’s summary: CK, Muffti, Laya and Esther met for drinks all the way downtown. The drinks came decorated with little plastic animals. Then CK and Laya flew back to Cali. Oh yeah, and there was abundant asparagus. Blurry photo
to come when CK uploads itabove thanks to Muffti.