Catherine eats her hat, as they say

Catherine im'd me this afternoon to ask at what time I planned to arrive at the Tribeca Grand. Yesterday, Jean had given me a flyer advertising a party for Keren Ann at the hotel (Jean had introduced me to her music just the day before, and in researching Keren I found Sasha's piece on her). Keren Ann would play a short set, but the invite didn't say when.

The party was from 7.30 to 11. From 7.30 to 8.30 a sponsor was offering glasses of sparkling wine. I told Catherine I hoped to get there around eight. I was working on redesigning Guillemette's site as a Christmas present. Catherine told me she was at the office and was planning on getting there at nine. I told her I'd wait for her. She said she'd call when she left her house.

A few minutes after nine she called to say she wasn't quite ready but we could meet in about twenty minutes. I started getting ready. Ten minutes later she said she was running late and that we could meet twenty minutes from then. She said she'd buy me a drink. I said we'd probably get there just as Keren was finishing her set. Catherine said if that were so, she would eat her hat.

Ten minutes later Catherine called to tell me she hadn't left the house yet. She was going to catch a cab. She had stepped outside to find it too cold to walk. I told her I was just heading out and that it would take about ten minutes for me to walk to the hotel.

When I arrived people were leaving with Virgin megastore bags. I waited outside for a few minutes and then Catherine came from inside. "I'm going to have to eat my hat," she said. Keren had just finished playing. Catherine pointed out that Keren was still at the hotel; she was standing in a small group of people smoking just outside the doors. Ah well, I said. At least we could get goody bags. Catherine offered to buy me a drink.

We each had a glass of shiraz. Catherine told me that the wine was bottled near her house in France. Earlier in the week she told me that Herbie Hancock often played near her village; there was a small jazz festival he attended every year. She said she had seen Miles twice at the same festival. I joked that the world revolved around her village. She smiled. The wine was very good.
Posted by eku at December 11, 2004 1:40 AM