Friday, yippee! Friday nights are sacred, Mama goes out with one of her closest friends–unless he’s sick, she’s sick, one of Mama’s kids are very sick, or Papa gets home super late. I don’t remember who started calling it Friday Night Madness, it was either Mama’s friend or my middle guy, who wants to be known as little guy–to differentiate him from the big guy, Papa, and the girl. 😉
Yes, it’s always a rip roaring time at the local diner, barely more than a coffee shop, for veggie burgers and occasional slices of lemon meringue pie that’s more of a slab than a slice. Sometimes it’s an evening of laughter, Mama’s friend is Funny with a capitol F, an entertainer by nature and trade. Sometimes it’s an evening of stupor, because the week was especially long and rough. It’s always an hour or two of respite, where Mama gets to be other than Mama, a grown up with hope and life. We always have the same waitress, a woman who works about 2700 hours a week but smiles because on Friday mornings she gets to sleep in. No doubt, there’s something very comforting about having a spot in this city where someone knows exactly how you like your veggie burger served and how you take your tea.
Friday nights in the diner are an interesting mix. There’s quite a few regulars; people who live from paycheck to paycheck, often in rent controlled apartments, sometimes in the local SROs. Usually a few tourists are there, either fresh from the airport and too tired for a-big-NY-night, or still too scared to stray more than a block from their hotel. Occasionally there’s a particularly stunned young couple, who booked themselves into a “boutique hotel” online, only to find themselves in a bedbug infested hostel. *Folks, if you’re booking an on-line NY vacation and the hotel rates seem too good to be true, they are–don’t do it.
The little guy thinks my Friday Night Madness is hysterical. He’s old enough to have noticed friends’ parents going for nights out, and knows mine couldn’t be more different. No need for make up, fancy clothes, credit cards, or taxis.
In the meantime I’ve got all the glamour of daytime Friday with a sick girl. The floors need to be swept and washed, the dog is waiting for his stew of the day, there’s reading to be done with the girl, and all the other details of this NY life.