Depending who you talk to, this is either our 21st or 22nd gathering. There was at least one year when I called in sick, so I consider this #20. As for the others, my memory of it all has mashed-up and reassembled itself like a large plate of particularly runny scrambled eggs -- washed down with a tumbler of single-malt scotch, of course. I'm bringing a bottle of 15-year-old Oban. I had a wee slurp of it the other night, and now I'm wishing I'd reached for the Talisker next to it, instead. Oh well: it's sure to grow on someone, if not me.
For the last three years I've lobbied with increasing insistence for a change of locale, with an emphasis on Montreal as an attractive possibility (one of our members has his own table at a particularly fine restaurant). The group e-mails go back and forth, and gradually the chorus for change begins to gel. Then someone mentions this damn bridge, and all bets are completely off.
This year the cabin is up for sale. Since no-one in our company has, as of this posting, offered to buy, we might very well be re-locating next year. After 20 years I refuse to believe it until I finally sink my teeth into that "tic-tac" steak (avec frites, of course).
I've finished bitching about it. The truth is I'm eagerly anticipating the weekend. The bridge is a marvelous place to sit and talk. It's a marvelous place to just sit. And, weather permitting, it's not a bad place to sleep, either.
6 comments:
Is it my doubting imagination, or is that fishing pole there for decorative purposes? Or, maybe I missed the utilitarian part of the pole; perhaps the "bait" at the end of the line is simply one the sacred bottles enjoying a slight chill in the water before it's emptied into the Bridge of Sitters' gullets?
Hope it's at least a 50 lb line you've got there!
Had you mentioned Schwartz's as the irresistible reason to hold the convocation in Montreal?
nb: Word verification was "makinsi" which seems to be the Italian spelling of McKenzie. Hmmmm, Blogger may be looking for an invite..
It must be a trick of the light you're referring to: the closest any of us has come to fishing is throwing the occasional unwitting grasshopper over the side to see how long it can survive the predatory fray (average: 8 seconds).
As for Schwartz's, the same chuckle-head with the table keeps showing up at the bridge some 25 lbs of smoked meat from said deli. Oh, and bagels, too. My modest proposal has yet to stand a chance.
When in Montreal, I worshipped at the Church of Fairmount, the only bagel shope I've ever been in that can also be classified as a dive.
Their garlic bagle was to die for and rise up to Heaven.
Hmmmm, I am having serious desires for another religious experience.
PS., your buddy is cruel beyond words and yet simultaneously over-generous by schlepping westward loaded down with smoked meat.
You know I have it bad. I have this DVD and watch bits of it at least once a month. I believe it's time for a road trip.
"A film to drool over" alright. If you do the road trip, just make sure you don't arrive at Schwartz's before Saturday morning: it could take them a while to recover from my friend's purchase.
Sigh, I wished we were headed somewhat that bucolic this weekend...
Maybe a road trip to Shiner, Texas, where they make that delicious Shiner Boch Beer! It's only about 5 hours from here...
someWHERE...good gosh gertie, get your fingers to behave...
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