This weekend was truly fantastic in every possible way. Friday night, Gary and I checked into the Radisson Martinique on Broadway and ate at the hotel’s Martinique Cafe. Not great, but it hit the spot, as we were starving and it was zeroing in on ten PM. I won’t offer you the more private moments of our weekend, except to say that Friday was intense in a positive way, and Saturday night trumped it at least tenfold. (grin).
Saturday, we headed over to the enormous line to get same-day tickets; we spent some time considering the offerings, managing to get our choices down to four (I knew better than to beg to see Hamlet.) We decided on Perfect Crime, and when we requested tickets, we received first-row seats.
We went to lunch at a perfectly respectable, if unremarkable, diner, then headed over to the Snapple Theater on West Fiftieth for the show.
It was excellent; we really enjoyed it. We walked back to our hotel, had a couple of mimosas in the room, then decided to start walking in the direction of the New York Comedy Club on East Twenty-fourth. We were specifically going there because Chris Distefano would be there, and we think he’s quite funny. (Haven’t heard of him? Hopefully, that’ll change.)
At any rate, we passed by quite a few wonderful-smelling Indian establishments, which Gary unfortunately does not enjoy.
We checked out one restaurant’s menu — a sort of upscale pub — but decided to try our luck further on.
At 307 Third Avenue, between 23rd and 24th, we found it: Andrea’s Brick Oven Restaurante. The name worried me; I figured it was going to be nothing more than a glorified pizza joint. However, the menu contained one of my absolute favorites: chicken Piccata, which I haven’t had in ages. We only ordered entrees, as we knew we were in for the two-drink minimum at the club. We will definitely be heading back there.
When we arrived at the comedy club, we overheard some patrons thanking one of the cocktail waitresses for suggesting Andrea’s.
The show was not the best comedy show I’ve been to, but far from the worst. We chatted with a group of young ladies and their mom from Mississippi, who were visiting one of their number who is attending SUNY Stony Brook.
Afterwards, we had quite a night, as referred to in passing earlier.
Sunday, we went to one of our favorite cafes, then did some shopping. On our way out, one of those shoplifter alert alarms sounded, and we weren’t sure whether it was us or the people in front of us making it go off.
We were in the middle of going up an escalator, and a security guard got Gary’s attention and told us to wait at the top. We did, and we figured it was nothing more than a forgotten alarm tag on one of the items we had just purchased. No such luck. Apparently, one of the shirts was not rung up, as per the receipt, which they checked twice. Gary was asked, “Did you want to buy this?”
Gary responded, “That was the intention.” It was really not pleasant thinking that they believed we tried to get away with something. Also, it was not the best way to end our extremely nice weekend.
We came home, did some food shopping, and watched Sex, Lies, and Videotape before enjoying a simple stir-fry dinner. Then the kiddies came home from their dad’s, we all watched some television together, and the weekend was over.
This afternoon, I came home a little early from work, not feeling particularly well; I hope I didn’t pick up something nasty from anyone over the weekend; I hate to waste illness on a four-day week. (grin).
Speaking of illness, I’m glad Elton John is feeling better.
Nothing controversial here, folks — sorry. I’m too queasy for it at the moment.
Tags: Andrea's Brick Oven Restaurante, Elton John, New York Comedy Club, NYC weekend, Perfect Crime, Radisson Martinique on Broadway, shoplifter scare
