Author Topic: Tweety and Sylvester  (Read 2904 times)

Offline Peter

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Tweety and Sylvester
« on: July 08, 2005, 03:35:52 AM »
Wednesday I stopped at Pratesi's on Madison Avenue and purchased two very fine Italian napkins.  I had them embroidery Tweety and Sylvester in each corner.  I next stopped at a T-Shirt store and had another T printed up like mine...Tweety on the front and Sylvester on the back.  I wanted this for Ms McGrath.  I had to guess her size..hope I gussed corectly.  Yesterday I stopped by Babbo's and made reservations for tonight...8:30, for two.  Making reservations a day before is impossible but money talks and we would have a table.  I spoke with the Day Manager, Bob Fry and gave him the napkins.  He assured me they would be on our table.  Aha..I wonder if Ms McGrath will show up, it would be great to find out how I can get the squeak out of my sneaker.

Offline Rachel

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Re: Tweety and Sylvester
« Reply #1 on: July 09, 2005, 09:33:41 AM »
((posted as Mary McGrath))

On Thursday morning I ran in Central Park as usual, but there was no sign of Peter and his Tweety Bird tee shirt.

Would he really show up at Babbo's on Friday night as planned? He said 8:00 pm and I suggested 8:30.

I fiirst ran into him on Monday June 27th and I smiled at him when I saw the Tweety Bird tee shirt he was wearing, but thought no more of it until Thursday June 30th, when he went "tweet tweet" as he pased me. I guess he recognized  my F430  tee shirt from my 2004 Marathon run. I laughed so hard I wound up bent over with my hands on my knees. I saw he was wearing Sylvester on the back of that tee.

I didn't see him again until Tuesday July 5th. This time he caught me from behind, running in the same direction after I almost trpped and fell.

“Suckkin Succotash,' I heard him comment and I started laughing so hard I had to stop and catch my breath.

“You’re a menace,” I said. “Put an egg in that squeaky sneaker and beat i.”

”My name’s Peter, have dinner with me,” he muttered with a smile>

“In your dreams,” I laughed.

”8 pm this Friday”

”No way.” I responded.

”Babbo’s on Waverly Place,” he smiled.

”Not by the hair on your chinny chin, chin.” but I had to laugh at my own joke.

“Your name wouldn’t happen to be Hamill would it?” he asked.

“How did you know that?” I asked?

“My 1st Grade Teacher introduced me to Mother Goose and all those very special children’s stories, her name was Hamill.” was his response.

“Hamill is my maiden name,” I cautiously responded.

“Dinner?”

“No.”

“Sparkling  conversation.” he offered.

“Never.”

“You might tell me how to get rid of this squeak in my sneake," he laughed.

Breaking down,  “I’ll be there, 8:30, Friday, Babbo’s, don’t be late,” I turned and jogged away.

“Thank you Tweety and Sylvester’” I heard in the distance.

Offline Rachel

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Re: Tweety and Sylvester
« Reply #2 on: July 09, 2005, 10:20:53 AM »
((posted as Mary McGrath))

I finally selected a dress to wear to Babbo's and my dinner with that strange man I met jogging in Central Park. Was I insane? I didn't even know his name, and he didn't know mine yet.

I arrived several minutes before the assigned time of 8:30 pm. Sure enough he walked in at the same time as I did. We were seated and I was immediately shocked as I opened my pretty cloth napkin to see Tweety and Sylvester embroidered in each corner.

The Matre’de, anticipating a scene was nearby and was at our table in a heartbeat.  Bending low he said, “Is everything to your satisfaction Dr. Campbell?”

He assured the man everything was okay and sent him away, requesting the wine steward.

“My name’s Mary McGrath,” I said with a smile.

"Peter Campbell, PhD, " responded.

“You’re a Doctor?  Do you make house calls?”… almost laughing.

“I’m a PhD, not a MD, although I have upon occasion helped a damsel in distress,” was his response.

“You seem to have thing with Tweety,” he said.

“My daughter grew up with Tweety and  Sylvester. We watched all of the cartoons and read all of their stories.  I have a very big and warm place in my heart for both of them.”

The wine steward arrived and he asked me red or white. I told him to make his own choice. He requested a Montevetrano 1996 wine. When the wine steward hurried back with the $250 bottle of wine, Peter asked me to handle the tasting. I think he was a little surprised as I went through the careful process of tasting and approving the wine.

Peter asked me what I do besides run. I know I was blushing as I answered, "I write romance novels." I kept stumbling around as we discussed the sexual covers on those books. I said it was just fantasy stuff for me, certainly not what I was really like, but I could tell he wanted to believe differently.

As we sipped our wine he slipped a brightly colored wrapped box across the table to me. I opened it slowly.  Holding up the Tee shirt, a tear fell down my cheek. Tweety Bird was on the front and Sylvester on the back, just like his running shirt.

 “I hope it fits,” he mumbled.

 “I’m sure it will. I’m thinking this is the best going away evening I could have,” was my answer.

 “Aha..going away? I hope not until after desert,” he said in a soft voice.

 “Oh, no I leave next Monday for Brussels.  I’ll be there a  year or two," I smiled.

 “I hope I’m not keeping you from family,”  he answered showing real concern.

"No, Amy’s in California and I lost Jim on 9/11,” I whispered, creating more tears.

I ordered the Prosciutto San Daniele as our shared appetizer, and the Grilled Pork chop with Sweet and Sour Onions, Duck Bacon and Membrillo Vinegar. Peter chose the Grilled Lamb Chops "Scotadita" and we shared tastes of each other's choices like two lovers on a date.

He insisted on dessert and while I ate the cheesecake, he enjoyed a piece of their famous chocolate hazelnut cake. Once again we shared bites as we conversed. Over desert he told me that the napkins were for me, one for Amy and the other for me.

I offer to send him several of my better romantic novels and promised to sign each one with a note inside the covers. We exchanged addresses and emails, promising to stay in touch.

We shared a taxi home and he joked again about my romance novels, even saying he'd think of me when he read them. I knew damn well what he meant, those wild racy sexual affairs that I included in each book. Luckily it was too dark in the taxi for him to see my red face.

He sent the taxi away at my place saying it was only a short walk over to his place at Central Park West. I knew he was hoping I might invite him inside, but I ended the night with a simple kiss and hurried inside to safety.

Will I ever see Peter again? Only time will tell.