A modern-day fairy tale
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A modern-day fairy tale

Every once in a while, husband #1 likes to throw me for a loop. Not to be confused with throwing me through a loop (or would that be a hoop of fire)?

Anyway, a few weeks ago, he suggested that we do something fun in the city. I guess this is where NOT having the football package in our home anymore comes in. Thrilled at the prospect of not just walking alone, doing laundry alone, and watching TV alone (we are really so exciting — please don’t be jealous), I started rambling off a bunch of suggestions that all included some sort of museum, as my brain actually misses culture. But then I knew which carrot to dangle in front of husband #1. That carrot is a couple from the Island of Long that we have gone on several adventures with. And this would be another one.

We met them in the restaurant inside the Jewish Museum. Our rationale was that since we couldn’t make it to the rally on the Brooklyn Bridge, we would express our devotion to Jewishness by going to the Museum of Jewishness (wonder if I can get them to change the name…hmm, anyone know anyone with that kind of power?). So we meet them in the restaurant for brunch and we are having a lovely time. The four of us are the perfect example of people who you would never think you would have anything in common with, but you always really enjoy each other’s company. That being said, while we were enjoying each other’s company, we look up to see some people walking in — and those people were Jerry and Jessica Seinfeld and their lovely daughter Sascha. No, I am not kidding. Yes, how cool IS that??? Yes, they just walked right in like normal people who are hungry and want to eat brunch. So cool. I know!!!!!!!

The Seinfelds go and sit down and Jerry and Jessica are facing the crowd. Keep that in mind for later in the story. Meanwhile, back at the table of ordinary people, my friend and I are discussing a strategy in which we can go over and talk to our good friends the Seinfelds. Husband #1 and her husband #1 want nothing to do with our plan — and I mean nothing. They both have on their “They are totally going to make a scene. We don’t know them, we don’t have children with them and we are not taking them home” faces on. Very supportive, both of them.

Brunch is over. We discuss the possibility of sending some non-alcoholic drinks over to their table. I can see husband #1 trying to total what that is going to cost him. Then someone suggests sending rugelach to their table; again, he is calculating the cost, but seems more comfortable with that one. But then the waiter gently suggests that we send over nothing. Husband #1 is totally relaxed at that point. The husbands leave, and my friend and I are on. This is our chance. We are going to be Jerry and Jessica’s new best friends. Their daughter Sascha will have to choose between our sons, but that is okay (since I am assuming that Sascha doesn’t want to take an oreo…).

We get up and walk over. I am actually wearing makeup and regular clothes, because my friend from the Island of Long is always dressed perfectly, so now I look less like a homeless person and more like a person who has a home. Anyway, we go over and introduce ourselves. Jessica looks at me and says, “You look so familiar! Are you the frazzled housewife?” Oh My God!!! She reads my column!! I could not believe it. Jerry gets up and offers us to sit down. All of my dreams are coming true! My friend cannot believe it!

No that didn’t happen. Come on people. Get real. The actual story is a lot less exciting. They weren’t so friendly, so I wrote Jessica an Instagram message and she actually answered me (that part is true) but, unfortunately, we are not going to be best friends, and I told husband #1 that he can no longer watch Seinfeld when I am in the room.

That’s the story. As for the restaurant, the omelet was OK but not worth $100 and, in the future, husband #1 isn’t going to suggest we do anything ever again.

The End.

Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck is hoping and praying that her next column will be written to you from the Holy Land or the Seinfelds’ living room, but probably, God willing, the former. Son #3, I am coming for you!!!!!!!!!s

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