Don't Mess With a Messer
On Friday night out group went to the The Inn On Castle Hill which was hosting a party of the most boring corporate wannabes imaginable. We were decidedly not formal and one hook-nosed woman actually snarled at my Kenneth Cole slip-ons. A snarling match ensued and we stormed out of this group of idiots who obviously had never been to Newport before. As we walked to our car, the manager ran out and apologized to du Barry (she is known TO ALL) and begged us to come back in; du Barry doesn't give second chances in social instances like this.
Instead we drove over to Ocean Cliff, a castle in it's own right built by The Huttons and immortalized when it was named Shamrock Cliff. One of the first mansions made over into a private business, I can vividly remember a long, long time ago having dinner there with someone I loved (and still do) when the electricity failed during a violent lightning storm and silver candlabrum were brought out while the storm raged all around us on that hill.
The staff and general feeling was so much more pleasing at Ocean Cliff and I pointed out a rather striking young man to The Countess who beckoned him over. He was an intern from Roumania and about to wrap up his stay. We joke about some other things we'd like him to wrap up when The Countess claimed she was "chilly" and needed "a wrap". The boy ran off and found her a great piece of peach linen (which went so well with my mauve silk). She works fast, just like the next day when American Team captain Dan Keating outwardly professed affection to me only to be photographed later with his arms around The Countess. No, she didn't stop with stealing the Roumanian baby from me.
I did catch The Countess mugging it up with Bennett at Flo's Beach Shack (or something like that), a sea-side restaurant that just kept piling on dish-after-dish of scallops, crabs, and chips.
My grandmother used to say, "Every now and then EVERYONE acts like a horse's ass." Wwe all did and had so much fun.