I cheated.

Yes, it’s true, and here comes the confession. I cheated in a moment of extreme stress.

Friday night I had planned a wonderful evening out with friends in Williamstown to see Laurie Anderson perform her new work, Delusions, and then visit a friend of mine who lives in that area for a home cooked meal to which I was bringing the wine.

My day had already consisted of nearly 3 hours of driving already in CT for the company I work for through rush hour traffic and micro-storms.  Little did I know what was ahead of me.

What ended up transpiring was me driving through an increasingly more impossible snowstorm until I reached West Stockbridge. It was clear to me, after passing several vehicles in the median or smashed into the siderails, that this was a fool’s journey. I was already going to be at least an hour late for the performance if I even made it at all. So with a heavy heart, I called my friend, we canceled the evening. And my nerves, jumping as they were from the drive, needed a break.

That is when I realized I had pulled up in front of a lovely little Mediterranean-style restaurant that was clearly having a disappointingly slow night. So hungry, tired, and nerve-wrecked I paid them a visit.

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