For my birthday we went to Rome, a place that makes everyone seem young, and had dinner in the Ghetto at a restaurant our friends suggested. Piperno is unchanged by time, the only thing in a tiny piazza on Monti de Cenci. Whether it is really Jewish Roman food can be debated, but whether it is sublime cannot be. Plus, it was around the corner from our hotel.
When I stepped out to use the bathroom our friends asked Carin if they could order a small birthday cake and she agreed I could bear the temporary embarrassment. Later the lights went out and for a moment we thought it was a power outage, but it was just my cupcake of a celebration entering the room and everyone there sang (incredibly as it was Rome) “Happy Birthday”. Including the table next to us where Gerhard Richter was having dinner.
Now that Gerhard Richter has sung “Happy Birthday” to me, I am hoping this is just the beginning of celebrity participation in my life’s events. Here are a few of the next random appearances I would like to request:
Keith Richards: colonoscopy
Michael Bloomberg: tax audit
Lena Dunham: facial
Elvis Costello: suit alteration
Tina Fey: Mother’s 90th birthday
Stephen Hawking: my nephew’s graduation
Ricky Jay: the next Bar Mitzvah I am forced to attend
Barney Frank: choosing my next cellphone plan
Robert Caro: really long plane flight
Woody Allen: Netflix queue rearrangement
Please see what can be arranged.