In an attempt to embarrass Julie at her bachelorette party, I stole an idea from my friend Ella and brought along a six foot inflated penis. (A little backstory is in order here: I had to call party favor stores, novelty shops and, finally, sex toy boutiques and ask, "Do you sell big inflatable penises?" The good people at Spartacus were able to accommodate me, and since they were so near John's office, I asked them to set one aside for John to pick up. Naturally, John walked into the store and said, "I understand you're holding a penis for me?") Then came the inflating bit, which John gamely took on while I tried to get pretty. I found him in the guest room, blowing into this tiny hole,
dripping sweat onto the penis. (I admit, I took no small amount of pleasure from this.) We finally inflated the fella, and off I went. Then there was the matter of the restaurant manager's request that, since it was a family restaurant,
I try to be discreet. She was cool about the whole thing, but how does one exercise discretion while carrying a giant penis down Broadway into a restaurant? I went with the trench coat. I was embarrassed; Julie was NOT, nor were her mother or her
grandmother. Everyone in the restaurant got a laugh, and the manager on duty insisted we all pose for a picture in the lobby on our way out.
