Business Lunch

That blissful hour in the middle of the nine to five, where lady professionals meet to eat. Ragers by night and assistants by day, this page is devoted to making a record of the sumptuous details of our break from the cubicle.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

drunch and its discontents

This morning was a good one for yours truly, perhaps or perhaps entirely due to an unprecedentedly sweet quizzo victory last night, a triumph which took me by surprise although my team had lead for the entire game, but nonetheless rained upon my dry face a druglike happiness, the yellow crusts of which remained to be picked from my eyes when I arose. Work went by like a fast bird, and my heart leapt when i read a matter-of-fact text message from Karina: 'Mary's not here. Drunch?' This was it, I thought. Our belated and tired drunch of last Friday would be stomped to the ground, and this drunch would rightly take its place on the throne of unwise activities. I met Karina at Dirty Frank's, a bar that anyone who's anyone in Philadelphia knows and has spent hours decoding the mural on its wall. This shiny and newfangled modern world we live in allowed Karina to believe that Mary was in the office today when she wasn't. Mary is home sick, mysteriously. She seemed fine last night, for anyone out there who is wondering.

Surprisingly, Frank's has taken this whole smoking ban quite seriously. I didn't care, but some guy in a blue patchwork sweater sure did. I had two lagers, and Karina had a Guiness and something else which was lighter than a lager but whose name I neglected to ask.

The time dropped by in talk of quizzo, upcoming formal parties, and subjects we've been thinking about maybe taking classes in (cello for Karina, Portuguese for me). Once I got over the small towniness of Philadelphia I realized that it was one of my favorite things about the place. Sure, seeing the same people everywhere when you don't want to see them can grate on one's general enjoyment, but when one is sitting in a bar in the middle of the afternoon and one looks out the door and sees a person on the corner across the street that one has described before to one's lunching companion as the spitting image of a mutual acquaintance in a hippie costume, and one finally has the opportunity to exhibit said person to said companion, one can't be blamed for being glad that one decided semi-randomly to move here two years ago.

When 3:30 rolled around we found that we were probably too drunk to go back to work, but just drunk enough to go to Borders and shop impulsively before doing so. So to Broad and Chestnut we ambled in the late summer heat. I bought a Portuguese pocket dictionary and a beginner's textbook, and Karina bought the tenth anniversary spectacular edition of the BBC miniseries version of Pride and Prejudice, a soup cookbook, and the Philadelphia Zagat's guide. Her boss called while we were browsing and she had to rush back to work, as did I, but my boss hadn't called, so a little bit slower.


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