We've been there enough times that we're greeted at the door and shown our favorite table. Bottles of ice-cold cava and an array of light refreshments are brought to the table: moules mariniere, olives, gravlax, cheeses, cups of delicate consomme, chartucerie, and salads, followed by fruits and sherbets. It's a grand evening together, all in our best bohemian finery, Viola in a vintage gown, May and James both in tuxedos, Ramsey opting for a smoking jacket, and Laura in a fetching ensemble she made herself. You're in something classy and fun yourself. We're the envy of the club, with other patrons casting glances our way as if they wished they were at our table.
And then, the band comes on, and the music starts.
Couples take to the floor; tangos ensue. You dance with James, and with May. Cava flows. We make friends with some of the other patrons.
We'll be late for work tomorrow, that's for sure. When it's all over, you're reluctant to even glance at your watch, and are wondering about calling in sick....
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