Vixens

We meant to start this last Fall: Even told a taxi driver about our adventures and how we were going to compile them into the Champagne Chronicles.

An aspiring playwrite he thought it was brilliant, looked forward to adapting them on stage. We promised we would seek legal counsel if he borrowed our intellectual property so he gave us his word, "I will be in touch when it hits the New York best seller list." Deal, we agreed. When your taxi driver has an MFA, and both passengers want to write as a hobby, you know the creative class is alive and well in the city.

That was when the Vixens first formed. It seemed everytime we got together we drank bubbly and effortlessly a memorable evening would unfold. Often enough the second bottle was on the house, sent from another table, or it just appeared at our booth, and we never quite new who the generous soul was.

Meanwhile dating statuses may have changed, fortunately friendships remained.

It was supposed to be a double date for Vixen 1 and 2, but both boyfriends had long days. Vixen 3 just made it in time. The fourth Vixen has been MIA for most of the new year, sometimes a heartbreak did that and only time could heal.

The reservation was waiting at a highly reviewed eatery and without hesitation the bubbly was ordered. Perusing the menu, what should be ordered opposed to what looked sinfully good. Vixen 3 had been on a dinner date, "I didn't really get Sausalito? I couldn't wait to get back to the city," so would join in on the dessert course. "Oh you were Bridge and Tunnel, we might have to revoke your membership!" a vixen scolded, then it was laughter, and stories, support, and acknowledgement of the work and patience relationships took.

Round two was Pinot, Vixen 2 had suggest red. Unsure of the mix there was a bit of a discussion Vixen 1 was the least picky that night. Then Vixen 3 remembered, "I wanted a glass of Pinot earlier, but he didn't...Then the restaurant he selected only sold Pinot by the bottle." The remaining Vixens didn't skip a beat, " then he should have ordered the bottle."

"Pinot it is, besides," Vixen 2 added after the dessert had been decided, "red goes better with chocolate." We were the last to leave, and the night was still young. Vixen 1 was not ready to go home, not that anyone was. "Let's go to Cassanova," she offered. We walked through the Mission, stopped in front of a cafe window that seemed to be glowing from the inside, and agreed to go there next time.

The Vixens, all over 30 were carded at the door.

In the crowded room three stools stared at us from the dimly lit bar and we took them, without question. Drinks in hand we looked into the crowd.

The amusement arrived in the form of a New Yorker who wanted us to engage in one to many guessing games. "Guess where I lived before New York?" Vixen 3 offered, "Algeria." He was surprised, "very close how did you know? "I dated an Algerian, how else?" Vixen 2 got on the continent, "Morocco?" He was probably used to talking to girls that didn't know geography. Obviously flustered he said Egypt next, I am from Egypt. "Oh, your Egyption" we politely replied since we felt no need to maintain the conversation. He continued with the lines but knew when to leave. Smart man, we all agreed...