Insult to Injury

My female family members meet in New York City once a year to berate each other and bond over rock bottom sales prices. This year’s reunion takes place in two weeks. I should clarify – not every female makes it. Only the ones who count. Dad springs for me, my sister, my sister-in-law and mother to get out of town. Because that’s how badly he needs a break.

These vacations never go down exactly as planned. Last time, more snow fell in Central Park during our weekend retreat than in five years of living in Buffalo. Nobody loves winter in the city more than I do, but advance notice would be nice. Birks and a Red Sox jacket didn't quite cut it.

This year, I insisted on tickets to Spamalot. Mom got Wicked instead. I vowed to see The Odd Couple. Someone suggested looking for pigs flying in the sky. I wanted to eat at Town or Tao. We’ll be lucky to score falafels on Thompson Street.

It gets worse.

I will be missing the Florida Democratic Convention. I know you’re thinking – a political convention in Orlando vs. shopping in New York? No contest. Are you high?

I wish.

Don’t kid yourself. The convention is where it’s at. Where else can you argue with the one guy pushing for Maddox, get hammered with an unhinged Dean staffer and plot the destruction of Katherine Harris? Not to mention hoping Barack Obama, this year’s Keynote Speaker and Fantasy Man, will glance across a crowded room and suggest dirty dances to forgotten disco tunes? A girl can dream.

I asked my mother if she’d be okay with me going to Orlando to document Jim Davis’ meteoric rise instead of the Big Apple. She said,

“Do what’s important, Catherine.”

That means I gotta go to New York. If anyone out there wants to post happenings in Orlando, please get in touch. My only requirement is your devotion to the Davis campaign, witty intellect, taste for tequila, and stretch marks. Men are especially encouraged to apply and don’t let my inappropriate requests for naked pictures deter you.

After all, I’ll be freezing my ass off, chasing ornery aunts down Canal Street and looking for love in all the wrong places. Throw a sister a bone why dontcha?