This morning she said, in reflection, feeling fortunate: "So many women my age have to endure a stale relationship..."
In my Jethro Bodine-esque attempt to show her all the wonderful possibilities life has to offer I said: "There's still plenty of time for us to develop a stale relationship."
Laughs all around. I am ever the optimist.
For her birthday, we went to the Badegrund for a swim. It might be the last time for a while because a cool front moved in late last night. As I write this Saturday AM, the wind is blowing Oklahoma-hard outside, the tall trees swaying around with a loud WHISH! of the leaves, and the temps are pleasant----it's about 64 F right now. Highs in the 60s, low 70s the next five days or so. Sorry, Oklahoma. I don't make the rules, or the weather.
There was a dog at the Badegrund, a golden retriever. He jumped in the water with his people and swam happily around. A young animal, feeling alive. I tried to imagine my cat swimming----no. Cats can swim but they hate being in the water.
I only swam once, then sat around reading and writing. Dozed off once. I have a real problem just sitting around. Certain people close to me have been inactive, chronically so, and as far as I'm concerned that's slow death. (And this, coming from one of the laziest bastards you'll ever meet!) Still, I think you have to keep your mind and your body moving and I'm a bit concerned I could end up being Mr. Lethargic, instead of Mr. Dynamic Old Dude. So sitting around at the lake or the beach or whatever is something I can do only in limited doses.
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There's a restaurant around the corner called Pfarrwirt. It's the oldest restaurant in Vienna--the original part of the structure dates from 1180. B, her family, and I ate there once several years ago but were underwhelmed, mostly by the shitty service. But we learned the place had undergone an overhaul and they were dedicated to improving the mistakes of the previous management, so we took a chance.
The beautiful courtyard of the Pfarrwirt
It was pleasant outside by this time of day so we sat in the huge courtyard. Trees and bushes and flowers everywhere. The waitstaff was gathered around a large chestnut tree where they'd set up a table with the wine glasses, plates, etc. They were very friendly and professional and it looked like it was going to be a pretty good evening.
We ordered our drinks. B's soup came---a cold tomato soup. Delicious.
Then the youngest and obviously newest of the waiters walked up with our food. It looked really appetizing. He set B's plate down----
---then, by some sudden gust of gravity or something, he spilled my food all over the tablecloth, my camera, and the ground next to me. Through some miracle it missed my lap and my shirt. There was my chicken in paprika sauce, laying on the gravel, looking up at me. "You can't eat me now, fucker!" it seemed to say.
I instantly felt bad for the young man. He was about 20, and we found out later he was a new waiter in training. He grabbed my camera and began wiping the sauce off of it. Sweat popped out all over his forehead, though it wasn't hot outside. I could tell he was trying frantically to make things right, while at the same time expecting to be yelled at. I told him, "Don't worry about it, man---machts nix. Kein problem!" Because we've all been young and done embarrassing things, often far worse than what this guy did.
The lady manager came over and moved us to the next table over. I told her: "Please tell the young man it's OK. We're not mad at him, and we don't want him getting into any trouble over this. No big deal."
Over the next few minutes we were visited by an older more experienced waiter, and the lady manager, who spoke excellent English. I think they were relieved we were so relaxed about everything. B explained to me that in this district, with all its pretentious assholes and big shots, the wait-staff had expected a big scene from us (not knowing we're just non-pretentious assholes and little shots.)
"When something like this happens, people immediately think of their own big mistakes," the lady said, laughing. "It brings back uncomfortable memories and we can relate."
I said: "This was nothing compared to the hundreds of mistakes he'll make with the women in his life."
The sauce was slippery and the dish was shallow, and gravity? It can be a bitch.
In about ten minutes the same young waiter came back with my second plate of food, and everything was perfect. He wasn't going to spill that food even if a pit bull was munching on his ass and Hitler's ghost was screaming at him. Good job, dude.
So we ate and talked and had a good time. Eventually I asked for the bill. The manager lady came over and said: "No charge tonight."
"Hey, we had a good meal and a good time and we expect to pay---that little incident didn't hurt our fun tonight." But she graciously insisted. Wow. Instant savings of about 40 Euro! The lady told B she appreciated our good attitude about everything.
I left the young man a 10 Euro tip.
