Around 8 in the morning Scott and I packed my life into a car and drove from DC to NY – with Atticus . I had mandatory orientation at 2:30 at the French Culinary Institute and while it was drizzling in DC the further north we traveled the harder the rain became. Atticus hates the car. He refused to sit by himself and just when I thought he was being brave and going toward the back of the car to explore, he vomited on the blanket coving the suitcase. Between puking pup, a boyfriend who was conducting conference calls with Honduran workers (and refusing to let me drive) and my nerves the trip was harrowing. We arrived with 20 minutes to spare and looked for a parking space. The rain was coming down and I thought Atticus would be due for a walk. We found a space and I went into the restaurant to wait for the orientation class. While I was sitting at the bar I realized that I didn’t have my wallet so I couldn’t even order a drink – so totally typical for me. Two younger boys walked in, one with an easily discernable NJ accent. I started to get nervous, I knew I was older for the program, but these guys looked like they were just out of high school.
The orientation went fine, and I felt like we were hearing information we had already been over. Many of our chefs came in and introduced themselves. I recognized one of them from Top Chef masters – he didn’t win – but the others were mostly a blur of white hats and coats. I paid close attention to the Italian chefs since that would be running the program. The chef who started the program walks around with a bunch of rosemary in his pocket so he would be easy to remember. The orientation was supposed to end at 4:00 and Scott and I needed to hightail it out of the city so we could get to my mother’s to put the dog in my room and head to Ariana’s for her birthday dinner. At 4:30 the last person spoke and we were then directed to a reception. I knew Scott was waiting so I got my bag - filled with Italian books and my new chef clothes, including three jackets with my name embodied on them! - and I snuck out.
Poor Atticus knows he isn’t supposed to pee on the floor in the house, he takes this to mean all hard surfaces. He wouldn’t go to the bathroom on the sidewalk. The parking place we thought we were so lucky to find was for commercial vehicles - $2 in parking meter fees down the drain. Worse then the money was the fact that Scott had to drive around the block, in the rain, with a dog hanging off of one shoulder
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