I asked my friend to go with me so we could do a little shopping and have lunch on Rittenhouse Square. Good idea.
Well, at the parking authority office, we had to go through the same kind of security that you go through at the airport. (We (tried) to make a joke about where our plane was loading and where we were going but the "security guard" had no sense of humor.) I was told it would be an hour before I had my turn so we decided to head over to Reading Terminal Market for a cup of tea. My friend went to tell the security man who then asked her if either of us had any vaseline in our "big bags"! Why would anyone ask such a question? It seems he had a big sore on his lip and I didn't even want to know about it. Talk about being 'skeeved out'! I couldn't even look in his direction on my way out. When we came back, my friend went around the corner to a dollar store while I went back inside to wait my turn (which I had missed). When I came out from my hearing (which I won hands down), the security man was standing at the door with some white cream around his lips! My friend got him some antibacterial cream at the Dollar Store! I left, still unable to look him in the face!
We headed on down the the center of town and did a little shopping along the way. I got some great things on sale but that's another day!
So, we went to have lunch at the newest Stephen Starr restaurant, Parc. In case you live under a rock and never get out, Stephen Starr is the number one restaurateur in our "City of Brotherly Love". We worked our way through the crowd that was gathering, to the hostess and told her which seat we wanted; up front and with the best view of the Square. While we dined al fresco, I daydreamed of years ago, when I would come to visit my aunt who lived on the 19th floor of 1900 Rittenhouse, and sharing lunch at the Art Alliance, when ladies still wore hats & gloves, and membership was required.
Our lunch was excellent and we enjoyed everything about it (including the cute waiter who we both wanted to adopt). While we were looking over the dessert menu, my friend began giggling. When I asked what was so funny, she nodded toward the ladies having lunch behind me. We had just commented on how "put together" they looked with their outfits and accessories when she noticed one of the women's ultimate accessory; a long stream of toilet paper hanging from below her jacket, obviously tucked into the waistband of her skirt. (Did I mention that these ladies were well into their golden years?) The longer she looked, the more my friend giggled as the paper began blowing in the breeze. Every time someone walked by, the paper waved at us like a muleta; the red cape that a matador flaps at the bull to draw its attention.
I couldn't let her just sit there like that! So I went over to tell her, but I just couldn't bring myself to touch it! She tried to reach back to find it but couldn't. So, she sat there (I think she thought I was lying to her) and finished her lunch all the while, that TP was flapping in the breeze!
Then it happened! She got up and started walking to the ladies' room! There it was, hanging in all its glory; that stream of TP. Her lunch companion looked horrified and she caught the eye of the gentleman (and I DO mean gentleman) seated next to them. He saw what she was looking at and he jumped from his seat and plucked the elusive TP from the lady's back and made it disappear like magic! Chivalry is not dead!
As we left the restaurant, I stopped at their table and told them to enjoy the rest of their day! I'm sure they did! As did I.
Ok, so I am not the nice person you thought I was; The devil made me do it!
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