Do not stand squirrelhaven up for a dinner date.
I made the grave mistake of forgetting about our dinner last week, so when it came time for our make-up dinner tonight, she saw fit to make sure I could not possibly forget. Yesterday, I get an email from a mutual friend reminding me of my impending dinner. I figured that E must have mentioned my forgetfulness to the friend, who was writing to remind me for E's sake. But then I get a second email to remind me, this one from someone I don't even know. And then I got a third email before going to bed.
That was yesterday. Today, I was absolutely deluged at work with emails from people reminding me to have dinner with E. Bombarded! It started with a few in the morning, some from people I know, some from people I don't know. I got simple emails saying "Don't forget your dinner." I got slightly more clever emails saying, "Gee, tacos sure taste good. Wouldn't it be nice to go to a restaurant with a friend and eat tacos? Howabout tonight?"
My officemates were wondering why I was laughing hysterically at my computer. And the emails kept coming all day. I got three e-cards. I got a message from someone's mom. One of my friends was kind enough to provide me a map of how to get from my workplace to the restaurant, which is all of 50 feet (if you don't include altitude). I received two command missions, one from a penguin inspector and one from a Cylon overlord. Three different people saw fit to write me poems cajoling me to dine. Someone even decided to remind me in more than half a dozen different languages.
By the time the day had ended, I had received well over 30 emails imploring me not to forget my dinner appointment. Including a coy email from E herself, asking nonchalantly if I had remembered our dinner. Well, at that point, yes. I hied myself to the appointed place at the appointed time, and while it would have been tragically funny if E had somehow forgotten, we managed to be co-present at the restaurant.
Then we ordered. Well, eventually. I'm not terribly good at making decisions, especially when faced with menus of tasty food. All I knew was that I wanted to split two dishes. After a bit of hemming and hawing, I played my ask-the-waiter's-suggestion gambit, deftly countered by E's anti-squid gambit. The waiter valiantly pretended that calamari didn't taste like squid, but E was unconvinced. We ended up with a pork tenderloin and a vegetarian paella, which were both quite tasty. And naturally, there is no better complement for good food than good conversation, so dinner with squirrelhaven was delightful.
In fact, it was so good, I'm sure I'll never forget to dine with her again.
As promised on my RisingPun blog, here's my latest column, about the bus.
Finally, Wordplay is playing at Images next week. This looks to be a fascinating film. I plan to go on Tuesday at 9, because it's twofer night. And I bet I can convince the_star_fish to join me. Maybe you should come see it with us.