Flashlight, check. Trash can, check.
My BFF CC and I like to give our friend Ish a hard time because of an incident that happened when we went to see Café Tacuba play at a local theater.
We were standing in line and CC was holding the tickets. Ish said “I see someone I know. I’m gonna go talk to him. Let me have my ticket in case I don’t see you again before we get inside.”
CC held the ticket up and said in her best kindergarten teacher voice “Now Ish – I’m going to give you the ticket, but don’t lose it!”
Ish glared at her. Apparently they had had a tiff because Ish had said the same thing to CC at the last concert they had gone to and CC took offense at the suggestion she would be as stupid as to lose her ticket.
Ish disappeared to find his buddy. Five minutes later we caught up with him as we were entering the theater.
Ish was in a panic. He had, of course, lost his ticket.
In the five short minutes since he had left us, he had mysteriously manage to lose his $50 ticket. The show was sold out of $50 tickets and, since he was determined to get in, he spent $75 on yet another ticket.
We have been shaking our heads about it ever since, laughing. How the hell does someone lose a ticket like that? All he had to do was hold onto it for FIVE MINUTES.
Cut to Christmas Eve. CC gave me my gifts while we were waiting for dinner – some really great extra virgin olive oil from Pasolivo and lovely vanilla peanut butter dog biscuits for Goldie.
Then she presented me with a card.
The card had a ticket to see my boyfriend Anthony Bourdain (I interviewed him one time and I think we had a moment there. That’s as far as it went, but Tony knows that we’ll always have that sidewalk in Westlake Village) in conversation with the incredibly hot chef Eric Ripert.
“Don’t lose the ticket,” she mockingly warned.
Oh, how we laughed. We laughed long and hard, remembering Ish and his follies, and having no clue of the ironic turn of events about to befall me.
I came home late, in the rain, and brought my sopping self and all of the various and sundry items that had been piling up in my car in the kitchen…
Oh why do I go on so? I should cut to the chase. I somehow threw the card away. With the ticket in it. Yes, I did.
Fortunately, I recycle.
Thus, there I was tonight, with my bike headband headlight, digging through the 75-gallon recycling bin at 8 pm, trying to find the card. And did I?
It took some doing, and some neighbors being even more convinced that I am completely off my tree, but I got my fat torso down into the bin and snagged the card with the tippy tips of my fingers. Victory! I DID NOT LOSE THE TICKET. I merely misplaced it for three days.
So I guess I’m still one up on Ish.