Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold and in French White CorningWare 

I remember it like it was yesterday. Oh for those of you wondering, I am banging this blog out on an iPad as my new Commodore 600 won’t ship till next week. That means these posts will be more ‘wordy’ than pictures so bear with me. Anyway, I can’t recall how many years it was but I was 10 or 11 and my sister was 5. We were driving to Mass and naturally my mother was running late. We were by the Pender’s house on Shady Grove and were at that 3 way stop. My mother was yelling at my sister and was more or less rolling into the stop. The car to our left is blowing the horn and a woman riding shotgun rolls down her window and blasts my mother for not stopping. I could tell my Mother wanted to return fire back to this lady but since we were in the car she kept her mouth shut and lit another Vantage Ultra Light. 

We pull up to St Louis Church, late, and who do we see walking into the church ahead of us? The lady from the car who blasted my mother for her driving. We sit down on the Virgin Mother side of the church directly across from the lady and her husband. We get to the “sign of the peace” part of mass and here it happens. My mother gets out of the pew and walks across the aisle and shakes the woman’s hand. I was pretty sure she said something snarky but it was classic Ba. Later we went to McDonalds and she even let me get an Apple Pie.

So this past week I was in Orlando for work. I fly home into LaGuardia on Thursday afternoon and head down to baggage claim to fetch my luggage. As I am standing there one of my work cohorts walks by and calls out my name. I spin around to say goodbye and my messenger bag briefcase narrowly misses a lady who is also waiting at the luggage belt. The lady was not amused. The lady was pissed. The lady calls me everything but a white man. After trying to apologize a second time I get it that it won’t help my cause so I give her a very southern accented “Well Bless your heart!” 

I get my luggage, grab a cab and take the 30 minute drive to the Upper East Side. We pull up to Trump Tower Coleman Tower and I get out and pay Habib for the ride. *Editors Note – If you are still reading this, you know what is coming. I say hello to Pete the Doorman and notice that there were 3 cabs letting people out on First Avenue. I go into the lobby to get my keys and I hear one of the other doormen say hello to the woman behind me and that her husband is home and just got home from work. (We live in a building that Mrs CBT’s work owns so everyone who lives there is an employee of her work) 

I get into the elevator and low and behold who is standing there with her rolling luggage bag, the woman who blasted me at LaGuardia. There are two other people in the elevator and I can tell that this woman is feeling awkward. Also knowing that she, like me, is a spouse of an employee I take caution to the wind. I ask this lady if she was on the flight from Orlando and she nods her head. I then look at her and say “I again apologize for nearly hitting you with my bag but that I was very happy to know that she didn’t die from it and made it home!” I then exit the elevator on the 9th floor (we live on 10) and say under my breath “Bless your heart!”

I just hope and pray that her husband isn’t one of the guys who I smoke cigars with on 73rd. 

Have a good one!


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