See, Marjorie and I got out of a cab tonight, but my iPhone didn’t. I habitually check my pockets when I exit a cab, to be sure I haven’t left anything behind, and that would have done the trick right there, but in New York, cabs don’t make money sitting around, so in the seven seconds or so it took for the discovery, he was already long gone. I resigned myself to replacing an iPhone.
We came upstairs and Marjorie started the claim process while I opened up MobileMe’s Find My iPhone feature, which many users have decried as a gross invasion of privacy (never mind that cell phones have always been traceable by their very nature). I could see that my phone had just crossed the bridge into Brooklyn. I remotely locked access and stapled a message to the lock screen asking very politely for the finder to call us on the land line to return the phone. I used the app’s alert feature to make the phone ping for two minutes (which works even if the phone is on silent mode).
The cabbie, meanwhile, hadn’t picked up a new fare yet, and when he found the chirping phone he obligingly gave us a call and said he’d be happy to bring it back. Karmically speaking, this would be the payback for when Marjorie found a cell phone in the library today and turned it in at the front desk.
So I watched him on Google Maps as he brought the phone right to our building. I gave him a very well deserved cash reward, and everybody ended up smiling.
On the morning of June 29, I woke up to find Marjorie already up. I discovered her in the hall, stringing shiny “40” streamers from the ceiling. It was already a terrific day.
She made breakfast for me, not neglecting the bacon, and we gathered ourselves for a picnic in Central Park with Lee, Chris, Rita, Steve and Sheri. Suz had to work, and Matt wouldn’t be in town until later. Marjorie had me wait outside the bedroom while she loaded a backpack, which gave me a chance to load my own surprise in my camera bag. What’s that? Adrian is preparing a surprise of his own on his birthday? Yeah, I’m clever like that. Rascal. But that’s later. Today is Marjorie’s Fabulous and Grand Production of Adrian’s Fortieth Birthday.
Over a sumptuous and exotic picnic including no less than five kinds of meat and my new favourite huntsman cheese, we revelled in the general awesomeness of life, taking time to toast Rita’s birthday just the day before. Then, Marjorie made her Fabulous and Grand announcement – the boys would embark on an epic quest. We would travel all over Manhattan, solving riddles and exploring new and exciting places to get a pint. Clues would be texted to us as we completed missions, and we were on a schedule. Undaunted, and wearing our plastic shot glasses around our necks on a string of beads, we set forth – Steve, Lee, and Adrian. Shot Squad.
Our first stop was the giant piano keyboard at FAO Schwarz to recreate the scene from Big. We did that. Not sure what happened to the video… so… stand by for that. Then we had to munch green apples outside the Apple store – normally it’s a striking glass cube, but at the moment it’s a substantially less impressive giant white plywood cube. Did that anyway. It’s not as easy as you might think to find green apples near 59th & 5th.
Then we had to find New York’s only officially registered historic landmark hotel, the Plaza, featured in about a bazillion movies. Major Marjorie and Sergeant Sheri met us there for refreshment, and a nice fella bought me a slug o’ Jameson for my birthday. Damned if I can remember his name. My apologies, nice fella.
Then, while the girls “followed their own clues” to a day spa, Shot Squad motored for Times Square to take pictures of clowns and super heroes. Oh we did that like champions, yes we did. Oh Iron Man, you so proud.
Without a moment to lose, we tracked down the Black Bear Lodge, and were met inside by Rita and Chris with a double handful of quarters. Downing three military-strength shots and a beer each, we took turns hunting big game on the vintage arcade standup. I was beginning to fear for my elocution later that evening. I had a thing to do. But we soldiered on after a lightning quick appearance by Suz to let us know she was joining the day. With Chris and Rita in tow, we journeyed to Otto’s Shrunken Head.
After the three heroes slorked back a toilet-bowl-sized tropical flaming booze thing, the men were given sketching supplies and ordered to draw comic strips with specific themes like Rita’s birthday, and something to do with Adrian. I’m sure they’re around somewhere. Stand by for those. Sheri berated us for not taking full advantage of birthday status for free drinks at the bars we’d hit, and poured something toxically delicious down my throat. Then Sheri and Marjorie bolted to prepare the last stop for our arrival, and the rest of us convoyed to the climax of our quest – Katz’s Deli. Suz used her formidable forces of intimidation to wrangle us THE table, and we re-enacted THAT scene from When Harry Met Sally. The video is with the rest of the pics below.
With that under our belts, we made triumphant procession to Gaetana’s Cucina Italiana in Greenwich Village, where Marjorie and Sheri had arranged for a birthday bedecked head table, complete with balloons, candles, beer and champagne. Happy birthday to me!
As the whole gang settled in, I took a moment to appreciate who I was with and where I was at. It was a crystalline moment. Marjorie, Rita, Chris, Lee, Suz, Sheri and Steve, the whole New York contingent, with me there on my fortieth birthday. And Matt finally showed up with stories of nightmares in transit. But he made it! Marjorie looked positively gorgeous. Sometimes I feel so fortunate… the words fall away to wonder.
It felt like no sooner did we get drinks in our hands but Sheri was back on her feet with a bunch of white envelopes. “The boys did extremely well on their quest, but it’s not over yet. There’s one more mission, and the rest of us get to play this time as well. This one is for couples!” Marjorie looked confused – this was not part of her plan. Okay, I says to myself, this is it. Marjorie and I opened our envelope:
“Take Adrian’s red balloon to the pier at the end of the street. Find its mate. Take a picture.”
Off we went with a red balloon. Marjorie didn’t notice that no one else actually left the restaurant. We were on a mission, after all.
Now, Steve and I had conspired weeks previously. (Actually, if I can digress for a moment, I recruited about half the people I know to help make this deal go down, but I’ll get to that later). Steve had asked me where I wanted The Moment to be, what was important to me, how I’d imagined it, that sort of thing. I told him that I wanted water and a sunset, and more greenery than concrete. He and Sheri scouted diligently, and now Marjorie and I were walking toward the chosen location. That’s about all I knew. Steve had assured me all else was “taken care of,” and I would “know what to do when the time comes”. Delicious.
So Marjorie and I discovered this pier at the end of West 10th Street. The sun was touching the horizon. As we walked the long pier, Marjorie spied a red balloon near the end. I thought that was a bit unlikely – how could a red balloon survive for long all alone in public? Must be coincidence. But Marjorie seemed to accept the gathering magic of the moment quite easily. There was a balloon right there in the mission, after all.
As we got closer, we saw a long row of crisp white paper bags with candles flickering inside leading right up to the balloon. Dutifully watching over the balloon (a mylar number declaring Happy Birthday) was a lovely lady who introduced herself as Kirby. She was also tending an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne, and a very large bouquet of lush red roses. “Happy birthday,” she said, and poured the champagne for two. I insisted she also have a cup, partially to give myself time to think. Now? This was pretty awesome, so it must be now, right? I reached for the camera bag. “Why don’t you two go down to the end of the pier? The sunset is gorgeous.” Oh yes, thank you – the plan.
Arm in arm we strolled down to the end. The gathering magic was approaching the surreal as twenty or so couples danced the tango nearby. True story – there were tango lessons going on, complete with authentic music.
We leaned against the railing and watched the sun set over the Hudson. We sipped our champagne and listened to rich tango music. The blissful serenity of the moment was timelessly perfect and we just held each other for a while. Meanwhile, I was thinking frantically.
Next to us a gentleman was just finishing a smoke, and I Had My Plan. I suggested to Marjorie that we should have our picture taken, and she agreed with enthusiasm. You could almost see the magic, I swear. I asked him if he would mind, proffering the camera, and the magic of the moment neatly switched into “really? I mean, really?” when he cheerfully replied, “absolutely, I have the same camera!”
I took her champagne cup and deposited it with mine as I fumbled the camera bag off my shoulder, surreptitiously pulling out my surprise. I stepped back to her and handed her the famous blue box, saying only, “here, why don’t you open this?” Hey, it got us started. Shut up.
She opened the box with curiosity. Her face clearly said this box contained earrings, and that was a sweet thing to do for her on my birthday. I tipped the box over so the jewellery box fell into my palm, and I dropped to one knee. I opened it with a flourish, and spoke the timeless words: “flabbleabbledabablab?” Or something like that. Things were so far beyond surreal in The Moment that it really could have been anything. Her face clearly said OhMyGod That’s An Engagement Ring. Also she said yes. Then we hugged and kissed a lot.
Our man Leo snapped pictures for all he was worth. So did any number of onlookers who had earlier asked Kirby what the balloon and the rest of it were all about.
And then, you know, we walked slowly back to the restaurant where everyone, and I do mean everyone, was on their feet cheering. We had a wonderful meal with beautiful people and I received some grand and thoughtful gifts. The rest of the night was full of joy and the unalloyed richness of life. And to be honest with you, it was all a bit of a blur. When they say you’re floating on a cloud, that’s what they mean. Right there.
Thank you, Marjorie, first and always foremost, for saying you will be my bride. Also for making my birthday epic.
Thank you, Steve and Sheri, for conspiring with me even as you conspired with Marjorie. I will spend long days trying to figure out how to repay you for your help. I am eternally in your debt.
Thank you, Lee and Suz, for your help in devising the original plot, in looking at rings, and for having my back in the crunch.
Thank you, Matt, my brother. I know you get it.
Thank you, Rita and Chris. Without you, I promise none of this could have happened. None of it. Your generosity humbles me.
Also thank you to Christie and Brad, who couldn’t be there on the day, but helped me conspire anyway. You were with me in spirit, as the magic of The Moment clearly shows.
So now I’m 40. And I’m marrying The One. Like I told her on an empty beach in the Dominican a year and a half ago: “Done deal.”
