All the worries seemed to evaporate in the final hours of Leopoldo's party. I kept saying, "Don't worry about the actual performance of the number. I have it completely rehearsed in my mind." And even our driver remarked, "You have everything detailed out to the minute. How do you do that?" Well, you do it because that is the only way you can get it all done: split-second timing.
The crowd was more than anyone had anticipated; the owners of Twist seemed to be in total glee. One person came up to me and said, "This is like the old days; everyone is happy. The (other place) is stupid for giving this up." Indeed, yet things change and evolve. I can testify that we are happier now than ever before, because you make the best of every thing that is handed to you (and we have). As long as I have a pair of T-straps that are comfortable and that Mr. Astor likes me to stay in, what could be wrong?

At the end of the evening, I was photographed in a triumphant pose as I finally witnessed the etched name of Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish being sand-blasted off of the Social Register. Oh, it won't be for long--to be sure; that name has been on things here longer than barnacles on a rock, or crust on a crown molding. She has a way of coming back. Still, once again I was secure in the only thing that matters now: Love (and the fact that I could have been on The Titanic and secured a seat in Lifeboat #1 with ease).