One of my favorite lines from 16 Candles is near the end where Sam’s parents realize they forgot her birthday.  They apologize, and during that scene, her younger brother comes from another room and starts laughing and just says, “Classic.”

I forgot my own birthday.  Sort-of.

Tomorrow is my birthday.  June 10th.  By the way, readers, if you want to start sending me presents, I’m more than willing to provide you with my home address.  Many may argue it’s dangerous to do this, but those many aren’t gift lovers like I.

The plan was that my mom was going to do some work in the city while my dad drove up to my place, dropped off a cake and then we would head to the restaurant.  I think my mom was going to take a cab.

Reservations were at 6:30, and my dad was supposed to be at my place by six.  This weekend there are four major festivals going on in Chicago and the city is nuts with traffic.  My folks live three hours away, so I started calling at four, just to get a read on their progress.  I called both cells, and got voicemails.

I kept calling for two hours, up until 6pm.  This was very weird, and I couldn’t figure out what was happening.  My dad was not at my place.  Nobody was answering their phones.  I started mildly freaking out, and tried my sister in NYC.  Couldn’t get her.  Called the girlfriend in ATL.  No answer.  Nobody to talk me off the ledge.

I jumped in my car, because it’s about thirty minutes to the restaurant.  Maybe I misheard and that I was supposed to drive myself there.  I was half-worried that my folks had perished in one of those carbon minoxide house-deaths or in a horrible car accident.  I’m also half-pissed because my rational mind tells me they’re fine, and that they just aren’t answering their phones.

I showed up at the restaurant, valeted the car, and hung out in the super-trendy lobby.  6:30 came and went.  I kept calling – no answer.  Finally, at 6:45pm I decided to look at the itinerary my mom emailed me.  By the way, dinner reservations do not require a TripIt itinerary.

It took forever to log-in to TripIt, which I really don’t use, but apparently my mom thinks is the cat’s meow.  And there it showed our dinner reservation for June 10th, my actual birthday.

I thought to myself, “Oh – June 10th.  That would make more sense that they’d come up on June 10th.  Because June 10th is my birthday, not June 9th.”

I cut a deal with the valet guy to only pay half.  As I got into my car he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Fresh breath is a priority in my life.

Tagged as: ATL, NYC