I Survived My Mum/Sis Weekend!

I woke up this morning, and that’s good enough for me. The weekend was good, but playing tourist is always exhausting for me. Even more exhausting is reacting sensitively to the ignorance/lack of awareness of said family members. Maybe the following means I’m a snob/ass, but here it goes:

Example One: Tourist Mentality

When arriving at the Met(roplolitan) Museum of Art on Saturday, I enlightened them regarding the issue of “suggested” admission prices. For those of you who don’t know, if the policy states “suggested”, it’s just that! In the case of the Met, I usually pay $5 and get a button (aka ticket) for each person in my group (not the “suggested $15/person, which is ridiculous). I found it frustrating that they (mainly my sis) would feel bad about not paying the “full” admission price. This is the kind of mentality that fucks tourists over, no thanks to the museums & other establishments that trick people into thinking they are required to pay.

Example Two: Dining Awkwardness

Dining al fresco has always been on my happy list, so when the opportunity arises I like to take it. Last night I took my girls up to Nonna, an Italian restaurant partially owned by the caterer I work closely with at KBP. This was my first time seeing the place, so when I walked up to see the fabulous outdoor dining option I knew that was the only option. My sis vetoed that real quick, sighting outside as being “too noisy”. Please note that we were at 85th & Columbus on the UWS, pretty much as quiet and peaceful as it gets here. But I got over the blow, and was then only left to deal with their ignorance of foreign cuisine (i.e. anything other than O’Charley’s or Ruby Tuesday’s), the condemnation directed toward my choice to order wine with my meal, as well as the interrogation regarding my next trip to Mobile.

Example Three: Artistic Appreciation

After our free meal (suggested retail price of approx. $100), we headed back down to Hell (aka Times Square) to attend what can only be described as a spiritual experience of the negro variety (btw, that's a very positive review). The Color Purple was that and so much more. A shout-out goes to Felicia P. Fields’ Sofia, which stole/owned the show in my opinion. The only awkward moment for me came during the number where Celie & Shug Avery (both women, for the literary inept) profess their undying love for each other. The number was beautiful, but it got no applause from my mother. Her disapproval has never been subtle, I’ll give her that!

Taking into account that the only alcohol I consumed this weekend was that glass of Sauvignon Blanc (I found it completely essential to my existence after sitting through my mother saying grace), I did pretty well. The only time I slipped into one of my moods was on Saturday when the girls started to complain heavily about having to walk too much. That annoyance, coupled with their indecisive natures, are things that will require more booze in the coming days.

I’ll get through it with the help of my best friend, the Martini. She’s seen me through some pretty great and pretty tragic times in my life thus far, so there’s no question that she’ll stick with me through this coming week (& weekend). At least I have one rock left…