Morning Awkward

I was riding the elevator down to the hotel lobby yesterday morning with a business man who was roughly my age. We stopped on the 11th floor where a younger dude wearing a navy pinstripe suit stepped in the elevator and gave the first guy a forced "hello."

Going against unwritten elevator protocol, he never turned around to face the door. Instead, he stared right at the first man and said, "I heard some men had fun at the casino last night."

Dead silence.

"Were you one of them?"

Pause. Eyes averted. Focus on the floor.

"Well, I was there."

Nothing more was said. The doors opened and the pinstriped man walked away briskly.

Now I want to know: what the hell happened at the casino?! And why wasn't I invited? Had I been prescient enough to feel this man's shame and embarrassment prior to the unspoken reprimand, I could have passionately chimed in (like in the movies), "No, he was with me."

Yeah, that would have been better. What happens in Milwaukee stays in Milwaukee?

Catholic Guilt

I coerced Margaret and Martin to go to St. Patrick's with me last weekend since we were headed next door to Saks anyway. It was so crowded that you could barely inch your way to the front. We ended up saying a quick prayer while Martin sat behind us Googling places to eat for dinner on his iPhone. As we sat back in the pew, Margaret and I began talking (quietly I may add) about the Virgin Mary and the Catholic vs. Protestant viewpoint of her. The next thing you know, an old man in his priestly garb (perhaps a monsignor?) came and rapped me on the shoulder, shock his head at us in a reproaching manner and repeatedly put his finger to his lips to shush us.

Oooo, how shameful!

Key learning: It's okay to walk around as a tourist, chat about the architecture and stop to take pictures but do not, under any circumstances, whisper about religion! What do you think this is? A cathedral?

Next time, I'll have to remember to text God while I'm there. I'm sure he won't mind.

Thankfully, as I walked alone to meet Janette and Laura for lunch later that morning, I happened to pass St. Malachy's, the "actors church," where years ago my grandfather would meet me on weekends while I was visiting friends in Hell's Kitchen. There I had a few minutes of real peace and prayer. And I lit a five-day candle in memory of my grandfather whom I miss a lot. Still. Wild to think that it may still be burning right now!