So my friend, taking my brother's place, reasoned that if the show was starting at 8 pm, as the tickets said, and the door opened at 7 pm, then he'd be able to leave work in time to not miss the show, although he'd miss the pre-show dinner my brother had planned. So we set that as our tentative plan, with my brother's friend who had bought the tickets mailing the PDF copies of all the tickets to us and assigning the first two to us; in e-mails with my friend we assigned tickets for each of us, with the knowledge that if we met up successfully for the 7 pm door-opening it wouldn't matter because we'd be going in as a group anyway. This extraordinarily simple operation required only about 2,038 e-mail messages to arrange. I can't explain it.
My brother --- Vegan for years --- had figured to have everyone meet up at a vegetarian restaurant near the West Fourth Street subway station, which sounded eerily like the vegetarian restaurant that bunny_hugger and I meet her brother and his girlfriend at back in December. And my brother's friend hoped to bring some of her friends in from Brooklyn ... and I started speculating on the possibility that her friends would be bunny_hugger's brother and his girlfriend. This would be wildly improbable, I know. And yet ...
Going up to Manhattan I took the bus up, planning to read, when I realized I had my phone and could call bunny_hugger, which I did. We had a lovely and extended bit of small talk which even continued through the Lincoln Tunnel, when I'd have expected we'd lose the phone signal considering from my parents' house we lose the signal on average every minute. Still, I arrived, and bunny_hugger had her adventure for the day ahead, and we virtually parted. I went to a bookstore just off Bryant Park and wandered around until I found something interesting and worried that I had filled up much time I'd be late getting to the restaurant. I hurried to the subway, worried when it seemed to take too long for a train to arrive, and got going ... finding, ultimately, the restaurant and getting to the front door, after going around the block looking in vain for the front door, exactly on the scheduled time.
Trivia: On 18 May 1890, in his first professional baseball game, future Giants manager John McGraw made eight errors; he would last five more games for the Olean, New York, team before being let go. Source: The Old Ball Game, Frank Deford.
Currently Reading: The American Presidents: Grover Cleveland, Henry F Gaff. (Oh, like you'd read it any differently.) The book jacket wonders about Cleveland's obscurity, past his trivia point items, but the slender book really doesn't make the case that Cleveland should be better-remembered, even by the standard of Obese Inert Presidents that the 19th Century was so fond of. It doesn't even give much attention to the really exciting potential crisis where he could've got himself killed in secret surgery and set off a fresh chain-of-succession crisis. Plus it spreads the lie about Baby Ruth candy bars being named for Cleveland's dead daughter.