The $3,300 Meal, or, Going Broke for Art

"Sir, your credit card is seeing a great deal of activity in Manhattan tonight."

Trust me, these are not the words you want to hear after being awakened from a sound slumber by a ringing phone.  Yet those are the words that greeted me on Sunday, around three in the morning.  Upon further discussion, I learned that the charges, $3,300.00 for a single meal, were billed at Le Coq.

Le Coq is Gem's favorite NYC eatery.  Ask her and she'll tell you, with a smile as wide as the East River, "I love Le Coq!" And Gem was in NYC, with Bitt and Luv, two of XzillaRation's up-and-cumming actresses, working on her directorial debut.  Let's call it Project X.

"Those charges are fine," I gulped.  "I mean, they're not fine, but, they're authorized.  I mean . . . . "

"Very well, sir.  Have a good evening, and thank you for doing business with Kawishiwi Express."

Could I have heard this helpful representative properly?  $3,300.00 for a meal?  There was no chance I'd be heading back to sleep without learning more.  So I dialed Gem up, and went straight to her voicemail.  It went like this for about three hours, before I finally passed out and had restless dreams.

Suffice it to say, these three, under Gem's encouragement, did in fact rack up a $3,300.00 restaurant tab.  And an outrageous spa tab.  She spent another $800 on lube!

Herewith, the restaurant bill reproduced for your (gulp) entertainment:

"Eight ounces of fucking Pushkinian?" I asked a completely nonplussed little redhead when she was back at our loft, smearing peanut butter on a Kawishiwi bar.  "Martinis?  Two legs of lamb?"

"Miniature legs of lamb," she replied, demurely.  "Miniature."

"Six salads?"

"What can I say, baby?" she said with a shrug.  "We were hungry!"

"You three are slender women, but this bill looks like it's for a class reunion of European royalty!  There's a fucking cigar on here, an El Lobo Corona!"

"Yes, and four brandies.  We asked the waiter to join us for a little post-prandial drink."

"We're gonna go fucking broke at this rate!"

"Calm down, baby," she said as she pointed to the tip line.  "Life is short, and money isn't everything. I drive a hard bargain.  Look, I didn't spend a dime on a tip!"

"Yeah," I said.  "I noticed that.  How'd you manage . . . oh no!"

She got up from the couch displaying a wicked little grin.  "After we got through with him, Pedro wasn't complaining a bit.  You might even say that he stiffed us!"

So you see, "Art" isn't some friend of ours who needs money.  "Art" is the god that Gem bows down to.  I have to admit, it has been a blast to watch her rev up this project.  I can only hope it is worth these expense reports.

Oh, and guys, if you want pussy, try being a waiter, spa attendant, or masseur.  From what I hear, these guys did pretty well.