The other day, I had lunch with Cokie Roberts. Yes, it sounds like a lie, I know. But I did. Sort of. She spoke at a function, sponsored by a women's organization. She sat at the same table I did, because the president of the organization was there. I wish I could say that she was seated next to me, but, unfortunately I can't as the World's Freakiest Woman was my dining partner.
Her name was Gabrielle. She was short, really short, like under 5'0 and she was one of those negative sized women. She looked as if someone has hosed her down in large, chunky gold jewelery. The conversation started innocently enough when she asked if anyone knew the average sized diamond bought for engagement rings. I happened to have the answer.
"Two carats these days," I said.
"I would have thought it would be more like ten carats," she said.
"Oh God, the average person can't afford that."
"My friends can." I looked at my friend Ela, seated on the other side of me. She raised an eyebrow.
"I even have one friend who just bought a 64 carat solitaire ring from Cartier."
Ela and I shook our heads. "You must mean a pendant," I said.
"A diamond that large is very rare," Ela told her. "And it's the size of a small egg. She can't possibly wear it on her finger."
"Well, she does. Another friend has a 45 carat ring. All my friends have very large diamonds."
"Okay . . ." I said, looking over at Cokie Roberts as if she could save me. She was in the throes of her own misery, sandwiched between two women who were chatting to her about their grand kids. She concentrated on her asparagus salad for relief.
Then Gabrielle tells me that her husband is in real estate, and she starts sizing up the neighborhoods for me as I'm new in town. "Beverly Hills is where you go when you have a little money, Bel Aire is where you go when you have more money, and Holmby Hills is where you go when you have the most money."
"Where's West Hollywood fit in," I quipped. She was not amused.
"I don't know why people say there is a problem with the economy," Gabrielle told me. "My husband just sold a 25 million dollar home. He bought me this as a gift." She shoved her South Sea Pearl ring in my face.
"I don't think the high end market is hurting, it's the low-end."
She looked at me as if she had no idea what I meant by "Low end."
I asked her how long she'd been married. 25 years. I asked how she met her husband. "I was a teacher's aide and he was in the 6th grade."
That pretty much stopped all the conversation at the table. Even Cokie Roberts was listening now.
All I could think was, "Why did I get placed next to the freak at the table? All these women and Cokie Roberts and I'm stuck next to the pedophile?"
I left shortly after that. It's hard to think of anything else to add to a conversation when you learn that the woman sitting next to you trolled grade school kids for marital material. On my way out the door, I realized I never asked her which neighborhood she lived in. Wherever it is, I hope they have that Neighborhood Alert thing going.
