As most of you know, Tina and I have been busy as hell.
We have a full-day shoot tomorrow photographing sexy, sexy architecture. It’s five or six distribution plants and one church. It’s a Lutheran church, so it’s not as bad.
I’ve turned down four concerts over the past few weeks including Morrissey, Norah Jones, R. Kelly and Regina Spektor. And somehow I’m sad I had to say no to each one.
I mean, R. Kelly. How crazy is that.
One story I wanted to tell you about was that on Saturday (the 13th) that we were scheduled to be in NYC (a week and a half ago), we had inadvertently bought plane tickets for P.M. arrival and not A.M. We got to the airport before figuring out our mistake.
Fortunately, we landed a standby seat on an earlier flight.
Once we arrived in NYC, we had lunch with Becky F. and Luis V. that day. We talked about all the ways October the 13th was wreaking havoc on our lives. Becky had suffered an injury while running that morning. And there were a few other (super) significant trials we all had to deal with.
That evening, Tina and I wanted to take it easy. We checked into our hotel and ordered food from what we thought was a restaurant about a block or so away on 10th Ave. We were on 11th.
When I arrived, they didn’t have my order and said, you must have called restaurant number 2. They called number 2, but they didn’t have my order either. “You must have called number 1.”
Sure enough, it was number one.
I called Tina, and she called them to cancel. But the guy on the line gave Tina a load of October the 13th hell, so off I went to pick up our order another four or more blocks away in the other direction.
So much for saving my feet for a long day on Sunday.
Be wary of October the 13th, no matter what day it falls on.
You never know what kind of luck is going to wreak havoc on your sweet little day.