Why Jane Curtin Hates Me

I have a life you know.

Anyway I was part of this conference at the U.N. before they cleaned all the smoke off the walls and after the thrill of sitting in actual Ambassador chairs (Zimbabwe!) it was time for our box lunch (that’s what they call a stale ham and cheese sandwich, a bag of potato chips, and a rather decrepit looking apple when they stuff it in a box).

Fortunately the soda was fresh and they had some club which was good enough for me before I went all low sodium (remember to order seltzer) because I don’t much like the sweet stuff.

Nobody had favored it before, so I got the chance to crack the cap.

Ah, you guessed it, soda geyser.  Well, a little Club Soda will clean that right…

Oh, wait.

So I did and all the people at my table had a nice laugh and we were poking in our boxes to find anything that was edible (sadly, no) when our guest of honor, Jane Curtin, strode in and, in an incredible action of solidarity which I give her great credit for, picked up one of the boxes and headed for the soda table.

Well, I must have broken the ice (as it were), and the Club was empty but a fresh refill was at hand and I actually felt remarkably justified when Jane made it her beverage of choice.

For about ten seconds when… ah, you guessed again.  Soda geyser.

Jane, I couldn’t help myself.  I about busted a gut when I noticed that no one was laughing except me.

But it all worked out in the end.  I had an incredible tour of 5th Avenue capped by a toast in the Rainbow Room as the sun set and a public private concert at the piano in the lobby of the Waldorf with my Nurse Girlfriend who lived in a trailer park and raised Siamese Cats on the side and her Consigliere who broke us up within the month because he was jealous.  Yet that worked out also because he advanced me to Capo di Tutti where I broke the system.

Still, that’s another story.

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