NYC

Start spreading the news!

/ fightmasterwrites / Leave a comment

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Happy New Year!

For five years I worked at the Hard Rock Café in Times Square NYC.  It was a very lucrative job, and it afforded me the ability to pay my rent, as well as take time off to design shows that came my way.  

There were 120+ servers on the schedule, and 75% of them all had side gigs going on.  Artists, models, musicians, actors, comedians, and the list goes on.  On any given busy night there would be 40+ servers on the floor.  The restaurant sat around 800 people at one time and was often on a 2 hour wait.  There were nights that you’d run into a co-worker in the dish pit that you didn’t even know was working that shift.  

The Hard Rock was known for doing lots of events throughout the year, but the big event was New Year’s Eve.  We were closed to the public and did a private party for one of the sponsors for the Times Square ball drop.  It was a very all hands on deck kind of event, and I was scheduled almost every year.  

As a manager, I love working events.  As a server, I’d rather get a root canal.  Every year, I’d scheme to get out of the shift, and it never happened.  In 2009, my first New Year’s Eve with Adam, I paid a co-worker 50 bucks to work my shift so that I could spend the evening with him.

The next year, we were in Texas, and I managed to be off.  

The years preceding Adam, I always took the cut.  Around 11:00 they’d ask for volunteers to go home and I’d always say yes.  I hated being there, and I hated being in the crowd trying to get home.  

However, in 2011, Adam and I had just gotten back from Maine, where we’d spent Christmas.  On Christmas Day, my friend’s Lisa and Michelle, along with myself, sat Adam down and did an intervention.  We explained to him that he was moving to Maine the followiong summer, and just to embrace it.  After about 30 minutes he craved, and the plan was put into motion that got us moved to the northeast.  

When we got home, I was of course scheduled to work New Year’s Eve.  This year was different.  Although, I’d not yet given my notice, I knew that this would be my last New Year’s Eve in NYC.  And although, I hated working events I was excited to work New Year’s Eve 2011.  Because the Hard Rock Café is at the base of the building where the ball drops.  And for all my years in NYC, I’d never been in Times Square to watch the ball drop.  

So in 2011, when volunteers were asked to speak up, I didn’t volunteer.  At 11:45 for the first time ever, I was present, when the staff gathered on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant.  And at 11:59:59, I watched the ball being to descend, I experienced the playing of New York, New York, I saw the confetti fly, as all of my co-workers hugged each other. 

Somewhere on this laptop, I have the video of that night saved.  It is buried in files and files of photos off lots of different phones and cameras I’ve had since grad school.  I have looked for the last three days, but have yet to be able to find it.  I’ve found lots of other fun surpriseds, but not the video.  

I’m glad that I worked that night.  I’m glad before I left the city for good that I got to see the ball drop.  It’s one of those New York City memories that I will always cherish.  

I’m not getting married today.

/ fightmasterwrites / Leave a comment

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

This is my last gay pride post.  

Gay pride.  Will we even be allowed on the streets next year?  Dramatic?  I certainly hope so.  

As ALL of you know, Adam and I go to NYC a lot.  

We see a lot of shows. 

And we revisit the city in which we met.  

This past April’s visit was special.  We used it to celebrate my 60th birthday.  

Goddamn am I old.  

On Monday when we got there, Adam mentioned that he wanted to walk up 5th Avenue to window shop, see Rockefeller Center, the windows etc.  He also wanted to stop at Louis Vitton for cologne.  One of his favorite fragrances is from there and he wanted to see if they had a travel size.  

On Tuesday, we did just that.  We took a cab to Macy’s were we wandered through the watch department.  I have a gift card for Macy’s that I’m supposed to use on a watch, but I saw nothing I like, or could afford.  

After that, we wandered over to 5th Avenue and walked north.  

We indeed passed all of the landmarks.  

At 57th street, we passed Tiffany’s and rounded the corner to Louise Vitton.  They did not have his travel size, but he did buy a another fragrance that he liked.  When we left, we rounded the corner to head south and he said, lets go in here:  Tiffany.  

We went in, and were asked what we were looking for.   He replied,  men’s rings?  

What?  

Full disclosure.  For the past 10 years, every time we went to NYC, I’d joke that we should stop in Tiffany for a ring.  It fell on deaf ears.  Every single time.  

Last fall, I confessed to Adam that I didn’t care if we got married, but I wanted a symbol I could wear that let me know what I was his boyfriend.

Unbeknownst to me, he’d actually listened.  

We went to the fourth floor.  Men’s wedding rings.  

We were greeted by a lovely man who asked what we were looking for, then were were introduced to a woman who would help us.  

We sat down and she began to show us our options.  In silver.  I did not want gold.  I wanted silver.  

Fun fact.  The entire fourth floor is dedicated to engagement rings.  And wedding rings.  

Only 6 of them are for men in silver.  

I tried several on.  

It was not a hard decision. 

Actually, the ring we liked the best had Tiffany and Co written on it, which we did not like.  

I settled on a platinum band.  Simple. 

The woman helping us, sized the ring, and found the one I needed.  She put it on my hand and it fit like a glove.  More on that later.  

The next thing we knew we were being served champagne and cookie.  This might have had something to do with me telling her that we were getting engaged.  

She also took a photo for us, wrapped up everything in Tiffany blue packaging and sent us on our way. 

I’d told Adam that I wouldn’t wear the ring until he officially gave it to me.  

Fast forward to Friday night.  We saw The Picture of Dorian Gray.  90 minutes, and had reservations at Pastis, one of our favorite late night restaurants.  We got there early, and our table wasn’t ready.  

We walked across the street to a park to wait.  It was fun to people watch and reminisce about what the meat packing district had been when we both moved there.  It really was about meat packing for the gay community.  

We finally got a text and our table was ready.  We got back to the restaurant, and were seated at the absolutely worst table in the restaurant.  Seriously.  The worst.  

We had dinner, joking about how bad the table was.  

After dinner, we planned to walk back to our apartment.  I had to pee, but did not want to walk back down the stairs.  

As we left, Adam kept saying, we need to walk across the street.  I said no.  He said yes.  In our relationship, he wins.  

We walked across the street and sat down on a big rock.  He started to speak about us, our relationship etc.  Then he pulled out the tiffany box, opened it, and put the ring on my finger. 

I was almost moved to tears.  We kissed.   

Just then a couple walked by and I asked her to take out photo.  Turns out is was a lesbian couple who had just gotten married.  

The took our photo.  

Adam and I hugged and kissed and walked home.

By the time we got home, I realize the ring was too big.  My fingers had been swollen from the humidity when we bought it.  

The next day, we went back and traded it for a size smaller.  

I’ve worn it every day since.  

Are we married, no.  

Are we engaged?  Yes.  Although I did call him my fiancée and he told me to calm down, thus the reason for the two month delay in telling all of you.

But I wear my ring proudly every day.  And we are in the very beginning stages of figuring out what a wedding would look like.  

I’ll keep you posted. 

I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride it where I like

/ fightmasterwrites / Leave a comment

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

In the winter of 2000/2001, I was working out at the New York Sport Club in the financial district in New York City.

Before any of you laugh, I weighed 185 pounds, and was in tip top shape.  

One of the physical trainers there was named Rich and he and I took a liking to each other.  He asked not if he could train me, but if I’d be interested in working out with him.  

I said of course, and we did.  

He was in great shape, was very sweet and fun fact, he was mostly deaf.  It was a new experience for me.  

We dated for a bit, but he was far more interested in me, than I was in him, and it didn’t last long. 

That being said, we worked out together for a bit, and stayed friends.

In early spring, he invited me to an event at his apartment in Chelsea, to discuss the bicycle ride from Boston to NYC to raise money for AIDS research.   

I went and thought what great idea.

The funny things is: he decided not to do it, and I decided to DO IT.  

The ride that year was from NYC to Boston, covered over 350 miles and was from July 19 to July 22.  

I spent the rest of the spring/summer NOT training.  

I rode my bike for a hot minute but I was not interested in the heavy lifting.  

The smartest thing I did all summer, was ask my friend Mike if I could borrow his road bike, instead of riding my mountain bike.  It did make all the difference in the world. 

I forget how much money I HAD to raise to do the ride but I exceeded the amount by about 1,000 dollars. 

Lots of my friends/family donated and this was before social media.

In fact, I raised so much money, that on the first day of the ride, I gave “away” some of my donations, so some fellow riders wouldn’t have to pay out of pocket. 

Finally, it was July 19, the first day.  

I had delivered my bike a couple of days ago so it could be delivered to Bear Mountain, New York.  

On July 19, I took a cab to the area for the bus that would take us to Bear Mountain to start the rise. 

Fun fact:  I left my cell phone in the cab.  It was the first and last time I lost a cell phone.  It meant that I couldn’t be in contact with any of the people tracking my ride or coming to meet me.  

I got to Bear Mountain, picked up my bike and with a blow of a whistle the ride commenced. 

It was 350+ miles from Bear Mountain to Boston.  I was disappointed it wasn’t from Boston to NYC as it had been before but I was sure to have fun.  

The way the ride worked, I’d ride my bike the specified route for the day, and when I got there, my belongings would be there.  I would sleep in a designated tent, but I’d also find food, shelter, showers, massage therapists, chiropractor, etc.  

I won’t go in to the details.  The ride was hard.  There were too many hills.  But I was determined to do the ride.  I didn’t walk my bike.  I didn’t ask for the van to take me to the next rest area. I didn’t complain.  

I rode every moment of the 350 miles.  

What I will say, is that it was the perfect idea of society.  There were people to help you.  There were people cheering you on.  When you got to the top of a particularly bad hill, you’d step off your bike, to cheer on the people behind you.  When you got to camp, it was a mutual admiration society.  People cheered you on as you pulled in to camp.  They asked you to join them for lunch or dinner.  They asked how you were doing. The insisted you go ahead of them to the showers etc if you had a bad day.  

To this day, it was four days of Eutopia and what we all want society to actually be.  

And on the last day, early afternoon, you passed in to the Boston city limits.  There were people lining the streets, screaming and the crowds grew as you got closer to the finish line. 

And sometime around 5:00 Sunday afternoon, I crossed the line.  I was tired.  Sweaty.  And beat. 

But I’d done it.  

And.

My friend Michelle and my friend Lou were there to meet me.  After we found each other, we went to the Cheers bar to have a beer, then went to dinner at a restaurant I don’t remember.  

The next day, I flew back to NYC.  And at the end of the week I picked up my belongings and my friend Mike’s bike.  

To this day, it still is one of the best moments of my life.  

A friend on Facebook, mentioned that he is working the crew on the ride in California this week and that it’s the last year it’s happening.  

I highly recommend doing it if you ever get the chance.  

A weekend in the country, would be charming, and the air would be fresh.

/ fightmasterwrites / Leave a comment

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

It’s the third weekend in July.  

That means it’s the weekend of the Yarmouth Clam Festival.  

That means it’s just six weeks till Labor Day Weekend.  

It means that we are half way through the summer season in Maine.  

And it also means it’s Camper’s Weekend.  

AHHHHHHH.  

That was a chorus of angels singing.  

What is Camper’s Weekend you ask?  

Well.  

Let me tell you.  

There are around 150 summer camps in Maine.

Many of these camps are sleep-away camps.  

Many of these camps welcome kids for several weeks at a time.  

And most of these camps DON’T allow visitors on the regular.  

So.  

One weekend, in the middle of the summer, these camps open their gates and allow parents to visit.  

And that one weekend is the third weekend in July.  

July 19 and 20, 2024. 

And why is any of this important?  

Well.  

Summer camp in Maine is NOT for working class folk. 

For the most part.  

There are subsidies and scholarships if you are a middle class and poor.  

For most of these kids their parents are wealthy.  

Very.

Wealthy.

And I do mean VERY wealthy.

People, from all over the country, ship their kids to Maine for the summer.  

And on the third week of July, these wealthy parents descend on Maine, to visit their offspring.  

And these wealthy, wealthy, stupidly rich people can be very amazing. 

Very sweet.  Handing out money to anyone they come in contact with.   

But far too many of them come to Maine, and they eat in our restaurants, and they are HORRIBLE.  

But how are they horrible you ask?  

Well.

Let me tell you.

First of all, every restaurant in town is booked months out.  

Completely booked.  

But that doesn’t deter these folks.  

They call repeatedly. 

They threaten.

Do you know who I am?

They have their assistant’s call.  

Do we know who they are? 

And these folks, finally get reservations.  

At their first, second, third, fourth choices.  

Yes, they make lots and lots of reservations.  

Leaving it up to fate, luck, and what others are doing as to what reservation they will keep.  

If they keep them.  

Today we had 23 cancellations.  

Most of which were in the last 24 hours.  

About ten of them were after service started tonight.  

We were significantly less busy, even though on paper we should have been crazy.  

But that’s the good part. 

The bad part is how a lot of these folks act when they walk through the doors.  

On Friday night, not one table sat where I had them scheduled to sit.  They walked in.  Looked around and then told me where they were sitting.  

I’m not sitting at a high top.

I’m not sitting at the counter.  

I’d like that corner table in the window that seats six, even though we are just four.  

I’m not sitting on the patio.  

I know I booked a regular table, but there is a lovely table on the patio and we’ll sit there.  

None of these things could happen.  

 A party of four would show up with six, and say, we’ll squeeze, until they realized that wasn’t an option.  

A party of 10 took 75 minutes to be complete last night.   The first guests sat at 5:15,  the last guests arrive at 6:40.  

They let their children run wild.  And I do mean wild.  I watched an 8-year-old, it was his birthday, run into different servers for 90 minutes. 

They are also all gluten free, organic, vegan, dairy-free, probiotic, paleo, pescatarians, who are allergic to black pepper, allium, mollusks.  However, they are gluten free, not celiac, so if you use the fryer that’s okay.  

And ALL, and I mean ALL of their phone numbers originate in New York City and its suburbs.  

Something an employee pointed out last night, is that for the most part, they don’t really enjoy food.  They are quick to order a burger, a pizza, or salad.  Most are not venturing in to seafood, especially raw seafood.  Steaks are preferred medium well.  

And more than anything, they don’t like to be told no.  In fact, they don’t take no for an answer.  

Like never.  

It goes back to do you know who I am?  Do you know who I work for?  Do you know how much I am worth? 

I can buy and sell you!!! 

Friday night, was the worst shift I have had at my new restaurants.  

The host working next to me, kept saying, you’ve got to be kidding me?

Do you have a kids menu? 

No.  

Do you have child friendly food?  

I don’t know what that means.  

Do you have chicken fingers?

No.  

Pasta?

No.

Spaghetti?

No (Spaghetti is pasta). 

How about grilled chicken? 

No.  

How about pizza?

Yes, we have pizza.

Is it gluten free?

Yes.  

That might work.  

This is a conversation I had at the host stand.  Long before they were seated or spoke to their server.  

If you live in Maine, you know it’s coming.  You can’t take the weekend off like we used to do in NYC for Fleet Week.  Or Easter Weekend or any of the other horrible days.  

We all suck it up, take a deep breath and take it like a man.  

I do have to say, that this weekend, this year, was every weekend last year, and the two summers prior. 

So, I really shouldn’t be complaining.  

But I think it’s important to share the fun.  

And, every restaurant in town does well this weekend.  

And by this time tomorrow, every family will be headed back to NYC and we won’t see them again till the third week of July, 2025.  

And I will be sitting in my underwear, drinking Buffalo Trace, which Adam found in the grocery store today, grateful the weekend is over, but also grateful, that it was another banner Camper’s Weekend.  

Food Glorious Food!!!

/ fightmasterwrites / Leave a comment

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Our trip to NYC this trip was unlike many of the others.  

We saw more shows.  

We had lunch out most days instead of dinner.  

And this brings me to lunch on Thursday.  

It was an experience to last a lifetime.  

We dined at Le Bernardin. 

Le Bernardin is a 3-star Michelin restaurant.  Voted number 1 restaurant in NYC over and over.  And is 26th on restaurants world-wide.  

Adam made the reservations a while ago, as soon as they became available on the day we wanted to go. Lunch on a Thursday, so that we’d have nowhere to be.  

We arrived last Thursday, right at 12:15, the time of our reservation.  It feels silly, now that the experience is behind us, but we both felt a little nervous.  

We are both in the business.  We dine out a lot.  

But there’s a nice lunch, and then there’s A NICE lunch.  

I was afraid I was underdressed, as I was not wearing a jacket.  But alas, I was not the only jacket free person in the dining room.  

We arrived, and from the moment we sat down, we knew the experience was going to be special.  

Unlike anything we’d ever done before.  

We were led to our table, where the chairs were pulled out for us.  The settings were exquisite.  And everyone exuded hospitality, from the host who sat us, to the sommelier, to the person, who kept clearing our plates, and bringing us new ones.  

I joked after the fact that we were given plates twice that we never used.  The initial place setting was taken away, as soon as we ordered bubbles to start.  The plate that replaced it was taken away, just before the bread was delivered to the table.  

The bubbles were delivered promptly, we were asked if we were doing the tasting menu, or ala carte.  We chose the tasting menu, and looking around the dining room we were the only guests doing so.  We also chose the wine pairings as well. 

We sipped bubbles and snacked on salmon rillettes.    

And soon we were off. 

Tuna-Urchin

Tuna-Tartare-Sea Urchin Toast; Jus de Viande

Albariño, Leirana, Rodrigo Mendez, Rías Baixas, Spain 2022

Langoustine

Seared Langoustine; Foie Gras-Cabbage Confit, Truffled Consommé

Riesling, Van Volxem, Wiltinger Ortswein, Saar, Germany 2021

Japanese Madai

Baked Madai; Fennel-Olive and Citrus Medley

Sauce Barigoule

Palomino Fino, Bodegas Luis Pérez, La Escribana, Andalucia, Spain 2022

Salmon-Caviar

Slowy Baked Salmon; Royal Osetra Caviar, Horseradish Emulsion

Bollinger, La Grande Année, Aÿ, Brut, Champagne, France 2014

Dover Sole

Pan Roasted Dover Sole; Green Olives, Toasted Almonds

Aged Sherry Wine Emulsion

Chardonnay, Evening Land Vineyards, Seven Springs, Willamette Valley, Oregon 2022

Halibut

Steamed Halibut; Baby Spring Vegetables

Red Wine Nage

Clos du Roi, Beaune Premier Cru, Domaine Chanson, Burgundy, France 2020

Rhubarb

Poached Rhubarb, Vanilla-Scented Chantilly

Bugey-Cerdon, La Cueille, Patrick Bottex, Savoie, France NV

Peruvian Dark Chocolate

Warm Peruvian Chocolate Tart, Tahitian Vanilla Ice Cream

Taylor Fladgate, 20 Year Tawny, Portugal

Each dish was better than the next.

The pacing was perfect.   Plates dropped.  Plates cleared.  

New glasses dropped at the table.  They left the old ones for a while, so for about 30 minutes it looked as though we’d had four glasses of wine each.  

The sommelier would stop by, describe the wine, pour two glasses and move on.   

We didn’t take a lot of photos because we didn’t want to appear to be THOSE people.  

But Adam did snap a few photos, and we had one of the server assistants take a quick photo of us.  

In all we were there for three hours, although it felt like about 90 minutes. 

The other thing that was interesting, was that the food was all approachable.  There was nothing weird, or outrageous that made you go yuck.   It was all delicious and prepared wonderfully.  

It’s not a meal we’ll repeat again, anytime soon.  

But I will look forward to the day that we do. 

PS.  It was interesting, looking around the dining room.  We got the feeling that most everyone there was just out for lunch on a Thursday.  There were business meetings going on.  20 somethings just going about their business.  For most of our fellow diners I really don’t think it was a special occasion.

  

If I can make it there….

/ fightmasterwrites / Leave a comment

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Hi.  

I lied.  

I didn’t post in NYC.  I brought my computer.  But I didn’t take it out of the bag once.  

I was having too much fun, and was exhausted when I got home every night.  

However, the fog seems to have lifted.  

It was gone by the time we crossed into Manhattan last Monday.  

Last week was a whirlwind. 

11 shows in 7 days.  

Lots of great meals.  

One fucking amazing meal. 

Lots of great walks.  I’m very grateful for my new knee.  

One of the best afternoons I had was sitting in Central Park, people watching.  And by people watching, I mean watching shirtless boys jog by.    

It really was a great week. 

As for the shows.

They all had merit, and in case you haven’t noticed in the 15 years I’ve been posting about theater, I rarely ever tell you a show is bad.  Too many people, work too hard, for me to post publicly that it’s not worth seeing. 

That being said.

Hell’s Kitchen.  Wonderful.  Those actors sang their asses off, and the voices.  Amazing.  We saw it the day the Tony’s were announced so there was a special energy in the room.  I actually made Adam wait by the stage door with me, which I never, ever do.  But then it rained before the leads made their way out.  

The Notebook.  Oh, my goodness. I had never seen the movie, or read the book.  Had no idea what it was about.  I boo hooed through the whole show.  Although.  Not as loudly as the girl sitting next to us.  You’d have thought her mother had just died.  

Mother Play.  Disturbing.  Deep.  So well-acted.  But hard to watch as a gay man.  

Suffs was fun.  And I love that it will have a long, long, long life after NYC in regional theaters, colleges and universities, and it’s only a matter of time till a high school produces it.  

The rest were all fun and I’m glad I saw them.  But these moved me the most.  

It did feel good to pull into the driveway last night though.  

We were glad to be home. 

It was weird driving each way.  When we left yesterday, NYC was in full spring mode.  It was green from the rain on Sunday.  Trees had leaves.  There were annuals in pots on the streets.  

As we drove north, things became less green, until we got to Maine, where the trees have buds on them, but most do NOT have leaves yet.  

We also saw a few famousish people.  

J. Harrison Ghee saw Hell’s Kitchen a few seats down from us. 

Judy Davis sat behind us at lunch.   

LaChanze.  

Micheal Grief.  

Ronnie Larson.  

Patti Lupone was in line with us when we saw Oh Mary.  She sat in the orchestra, we were in the balcony.  

And we saw Rollerena, a NYC personality if there ever was one.  

When you are a New Yorker you don’t bother famous people, and you definitely don’t ask for an autograph or take a photo.  So.  I have no proof of these encounters.  

We also used my friend David’s theory on parking tickets while in the city.  We chose NOT to move our car for alternate side of the street parking.  The first time we did NOT get a ticket.  The second time we did.  It was worth the price of the ticket to not have to pay to park, and to not have to get up and move the car.  

All in all it was a great trip.  

But.  

It feels good to be home. 

I feel better than I did before I left.  

And.  

That’s what I’m most grateful for.  

One Day More!!!

/ fightmasterwrites / Leave a comment

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

It’s been 15 weeks since my knee surgery.  

If I had it to do over again, it would be 52 weeks since my knee surgery.  

My biggest regret of the last year was putting off the surgery for someone else.  

Lesson learned.  

15 weeks.  

105 days.  

When I started my job in December, it was ever apparent that I’d just had a knee replacement.  

After a few hours on my feet, my knee would be the size of Nebraska, bending it was far from easy, and I never went back downstairs at the end of the night.

Never.  

I realized this week, that none of that was true anymore.

I hadn’t really realized it.

My knee is hardly swollen at all at the end of the day anymore.  

I’ve started doing the stairs like a normal person, as opposed to one at a time.  

I don’t skip going upstairs for a coffee refill in the morning, because it hurts.  

Every day it gets a little better.  

Even in NYC this past weekend, there was no pain or swelling after walking around the city all day.   

In NYC, the worst thing, is that 6’0” people doesn’t fit in theater seats.  They were designed in 1904 for humans that were 5’5”.  For me to cram my body, into a theater seat, and sit with my knee at a weird angle, or slammed against the seat in front of me, causes real discomfort.    

But we sacrifice for our pleasures, and so I suppose Adam and I will continue to try and squeeze into the seats.  

Except at the Emerson Colonial in Boston.  Those seats were designed for 3 year old children.  Just say no.  

Which brings me to tonight’s story.  

I was starting down the stairs to the office, as a woman appeared coming up from the restroom.  I was farther along than she was, so she gestured to come on down.  

Even though, I take the stairs regular style these days, it’s a slow process.  

I apologized my pace and explained that I’d just gotten a new knee.  

She laughed and said, no need to apologize, and I bet you feel a million times better.

I assured her that I did, and she went on to explain that her mom had just gotten a new hip and was so much happier.  

I told her that I was much happier with the new knee and that my only regret was not doing it sooner. 

She said her mom had said the same thing.

I then replied, so in 20 years when you are told you need a new knee, doing it then.  Schedule the appointment and get it done.  And you’ll think back to the strange man on the stairs of a restaurant, telling you to book the appointment and get it done.  

And you will.  

She laughed, and said, you don’t seem that strange.  

I thought to myself, if you only knew.