Lunch at Cipriani’s
I get up late, having stayed up very late writing something controversial. Go into Manhattan to pick up my new iPad and keyboard – so excited I am not hungry and skip breakfast, promising myself a fancy lunch.
After I pick it up, I decide to treat myself to the restaurant that overlooks Grand Central’s main hall. The view, the ambiance as I play at being a writer.
I did not know, but it is in fact an outpost of Cipriani’s. I know, ironic since I protested at their location just across 42nd Street. I suspiciously peruse the menu before being seated – the cheaper items are expensive to me but this is a treat.
After the excellent lentil salad, and half of the Bloody Mary (never again while I am in America, seems like a different recipe here), I start on the salmon. Very enjoyable, and a large plate with all the trimmings. When suddenly with no warning ,,,
I vomit into my plate. And continue vomiting. Into the bowl with the sour cream and chives. Into my Bloody Mary. Up the side of my glass of mineral water. Repeated and projectile vomiting, a seemingly endless stream from an empty stomach. It drips off the table and down my leg as I am trapped in my seat. My new jeans, the only thing I have that fits me.
A waiter passes, unseeing he asks if everything is alright. I squeak out a “no!”. He turns, looks, and runs away. There is no help from Cipriani’s as I grab napkins from other tables to dam the flow and reduce some of the mess on me. But I leave a very large tip anyway, it is not their fault I am sick and someone will have to clear up the mess.
To home. I am that strange man on the subway who smells of vomit. No one cares. They don’t even avoid me.
It’s the BRAT diet for me, bananas, rice, applesauce and toast. Totally forbidden on my highly effective low carb diet, but I must treat this stomach bug. I hope I do not gain too much while I am sick. I make plans for the meeting I will miss on Monday morning.
Only to recover, hungry four hours later. There was no bug.
I got food poisoning at Cipriani’s.
P.S. I seem to have libeled Cipriani’s. My son, who ate the same bulgogi beef we barbecued at the table ourselves in a Korean restaraunt, also came down with a stomach bug.
The crockery at Cipriani’s was collateral damage.
