Hmmm. Titanic, Concorde. Maybe God is trying to tell us to stay the hell away from France!
Oh wait, they have a singer coming on. Something Vaughan. Perhaps she can warble out a tune.
I’m down with nuzzling! We need a slow dance. Maybe this Sarah person knows something appropriate.
Ah, I see you’ve taken lessons. You dance wonderfully!
[The music, Gershwin’s “The Man I Love” builds in drama. We step it up with long graceful sweeps and dips, as the other patrons of the canteen watch and gasp. We move like a single being, with perfect grace.]
“We move like a single being, with perfect grace.”
—Umm, Grace, would you MIND getting out from in between us? I don’t care HOW perfect you are . . .
Oh, dear, I think the Titanic will be fine. Besides, it will give the Bit Players something to have fun with. Let’s return to our inventive dinner and finish up while the night is young (only, what, five days old?). Oh, maitre d’! Can you get us the White Star offices on the 'phone?
How tall are you darling? Not you, Grace, I meant APB. I’m five-five and we seem just right for dancing.
Now, back to you . . . Who are your people, dear? What do you DO? And is that a tan line I see on your third finger?
Here you are, sir, the check. I hope everything was to your liking, and I apologize for the delay concerning the alcove. Ah, yes, the band is wonderful, they used to play for the president before we, uhmmmmmm…borrowed them. Now, how will you be paying? Ah, yes, the platinum card. Very good choice. Here, allow me to get the door for you. I will go and, uhmmmmm…get your limo driver.
<Waiter runs into restaurant.>
<Moment’s pause, driver pulls around in limo, looking disheveled and out of breath>
Hey, guys, how was dinner! Okay, where to now? The bay? You guys goin on a cruise now or something? You are? WOW! What a coincedence! I just got hired to be the captain on a boat that’s headed out tonight! I can’t remember the name, though. It was…uhmmmmm…The Really Really Big Boat, or something. Oh well, here we go!
I’m 6’2", you must be wearing heels. Whew! That was more tiring that it looked. Let’s sit down.
No, no wife. Well, there was that time I woke up in Tijuana after a bender with “Consuela Forever” tattooed on my belly, but nothing ever came of it so as far as I know, no wife.
If you want to go the Titanic route, well, okay. I’m loth to admit this to a movie buff, but I somehow managed to miss the great masterpiece. So I will have to depend on your guidance.
Now, how serious is this thing between you and Grace? And what about SaxFace? Any others I should know about?
[Slips shoe off under the table and begins to slide it up Eve’s lovely leg].
Good thing I JUST HAPPENED to bring my fully packed Saratoga trunk with me on our date! Pier 54, please, driver, at 11th Street and the Hudson.
APB, darling, I think—just for appearances sake, you know—we really ought to reserve separate cabins. First class, of course . . . and adjoining, if you insist . . .
Ooh, look, we posted at almost exactly the same time—that doesn’t happen very often.
Six-two, huh? Hmm, getting more Gary Cooperish by the minute, she says, beguilingly [deciding not to slap that foot down].
Oh, I won’t say anything bad about Sax—she’s a dear, but we were just using each other as a Port in the Storm till “Mr. Right” came along. OK, then, “Mr. Partially Correct for Half Credit.”
Ah, and here we are at the pier! Would you assist me up the gangplank? My, doesn’t the First Mate look familiar . . . And there’s the Titanic band tuning up . . . TWO tenor saxes?
[dammit, it’s 5:00 Friday afternoon and I DON’T WANT TO GO HOME . . . ]
APB, dearest, why don’t you ask the band to tune up for us so we can cut a rug? I’ll be in my cabin changing into my new Poiret tango dress, with the hobble skirt . . . I’ll be right out . . . Um, on Monday morning . . .
Hello, I am your captain for the duration of the trip <short bow>. I am also serving as pretty much any help that you will need, since there seems to be a bit of a shortage of willing employees. While the missus is in the powder-room, I would like to take this opprotunity to inform you that I plan on going straight through the voyage at the absolute fastest speed possible, with no regard for safety.
Oh, yes, I plan to be drunk, as well. See you at the bar!
(I know the maitre d’ & he told us where you were going…and supplied the champagne for a gift. Well I think it’s champagne, it’s cloudy & fizzy & in a bottle…here you are <flourish>).
Don’t worry about the cats, they’ll be fine. (The second one was hiding under the bed, but looked a bit dragonish when dragged out…strange that!)
Now, I must get off here before they cast off, I don’t think I brought my passport…and my swimming skills are a bit out of date…good job my posh, first class access dress has a built in life jacket that inflates when it hits sea water…
Last thing I remember I was in a greasy spoon when some guy came flyin’ out of the kitchen screaming, “Moe! Larry! The cheese!” - and all I did was say I was heading for Niagara Falls.
I feel awful - I think we must be moving. Hey! What the hell am I doing on the Staten Island Ferry? And why has someone painted the word “Titanic” on the side?
Last time I looked, I was up to my elbows in German cheese, and now here I am on the ill-fated White Star liner TITANIC, due to be torpedoed by a U-boat and crash in flames over Lindhurst, New Jersey. Oh, the humanity!
…and they gave me {sob} a YAMAHA saxophone.
So. What happened to shorty and the stringbean? Shouldn’t we be taking this out on them in some way?
Well, APB, dear heart, it’s Monday morning and here I am, out on the deck in my hobble skirt and ready for a turn around the ship. That band is getting on my nerves, though . . . Don’t they know ANYTHING but “Cohen Owes Me Ninety-Seven Dollars?”
Had a helluva time getting dressed, hooked up, and powdered with the boat going in tight little circles, I must say. Plus, I was a bit worried to see that Jolly Roger flag momentarily hoisted aloft. Someone’s idea of a joke, I guess . . .
Well, the weather’s lovely, I am assured by the lookout that there will be plenty of ice for my cocktails—now, where has my young man gotten to? I need some time alone with him, for a change.
Afternoon, folks, I’m your band leader, Clifton Webb, and we’ll be getting back to music for your crusing enjoyment in just a bit. I’d like to remind everyone that the Titanic is the safest ship afloat, and like Molly Brown, is completely unsinkable. Oh, we’re going to have some nights to remember, aren’t we?
Anyone remember the words to “Nearer My God to Thee?”
No?
OK, nevermind, let’s dance.
You say either, and I say “I-ther”
You say neither, and I say “ny-ther”
Either, “i-ther,” neither, “ny-ther”
Let’s call the whole thing off.
…
(Hmm, did I remember to pack my long underwear and my Mae West?)
<slight hijack>
My aunt remembers these events clearly, even though she was a little girl. She even has a copy of the Fredericksburg, VA newspaper announcing “Titanic Sunk - Thousands Feared Dead.” The reason she remembers it, aside from the obvious, is that she and her siblings and my grandfather and his first were having their photograph taken by a travelling photorgrapher (she still has the photo in a huge oval frame)but were interupted by a neighbor spreading the news about “Some big ship that sank and killed thousands and thousands of people.” Not many 96 year old folks out there, and I talk to her every chance I get.