The Future

So I just stepped outside for a bit of fresh air and happened to cross the path of a waiter from PJ Clark’s escorting an elderly woman (who was lookin’ fly in her zebra shades) to the curb for a cab.  Now, when I say ‘escorting’ I mean she was out of her mind tossed and needed an extra arm and pair of legs. Her lips were gloriously stained with red wine residue and she was weaving into her chaperone while struggling to pull out a Virginia Slim. I cannot tell you how amazing I think this is. I only hope to one day have the luxury of sitting at a classy joint like PJ Clarke’s (not only did Frank Sinatra hang here back in the day, but this is also the spot where Buddy Holly proposed to Maria Elena) in the afternoon and get sloshed.  High five old gal. High five.

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