NOTES FROM AN AUCTION

On Monday night, I attended a fundraising benefit auction, organized by the girlfriend of a very close friend. Things I noticed: That Matthew Modine—one of the honorary co-hosts-- is very tall. That his neck looks older than the rest of him. That Andy Summers of the Police—another honorary co-host-- is very short. That Andy Summers’ neck looks about the same age as the rest of him. That both Matthew Modine and Andy Summers have donated nice photographs to the silent auction.

Afterward, at the post-auction dinner, I sat at a table with some women in the art world. They were quite nice, but inclined towards talking shop. One said, "I am NOT a gossip, but I'll share some dirt if you all beg me to." The others created a quorum of begging. “Well, the Modines are friends of some gallery owner I know and they have season seats for the Knicks. And the Modines attend the games. And, they are loud and wild and out of control during the games. Now, I'm not saying they do drugs. But I'm not saying they don't." I told them that I hate to be a contrarian (because loving being a contrarian wouldn't be contrary enough), but might I suggest that they, like myself, are just passionate basketball fans? I was stared at like a rain cloud above a parade. Then they started talking about an upcoming benefit in Miami. They all agreed that the humidity in Miami can really frizz your hair. I never missed Monday Night Football quite so much.

Then, finally a Seinfeldian moment: Just after my long-awaited salmon entrée was put down in front of me, my neighbor (one of the aforementioned lovely women from the art world) summoned someone over to the table to complain that he had outbid her on a few items she really wanted. It was an act of playful and unobjectionable networking, except for the fact that the woman was sitting to my left, inside the horse-shoe shaped banquette, and the man was standing right over my meal speaking across to her. There was such a din in the room, that he had to really project like a stage actor in order to be heard which meant, unfortunately, that he was spewing saliva all over my meal. I tried to discreetly fend off the wayward droplets as best I could with my hand and napkin. But damage was certainly done. After he left, I could not regard my meal with quite the same relish as I had just moments earlier… when it was truly saliva inducing, rather than merely saliva covered.

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Posted on 11/16/2005 ( Permanent Link )
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