Florent was in the Meat Packing District before it was cool—or really when it was a lot cooler, before the neighborhood was taken over by Sex-in-the-City wannabees. The food is always great there (get the Moules Frites), as is the atmosphere. Ask for a table outside and watch the sun set.
Lots of famous people come into Florent, so it’s kind of like the Hotel Chelsea in that respect. When we’re there, we always play a celebrity trivia game with our waiter, the tall and urbane Josiah (author of The Unauthorized Donna Summers.) In the past, he’s always been able to figure out our questions, but recently we stumped him.
“There was an actor checking into the Chelsea a couple of weeks ago,” I said. “I was waiting for the elevator and he kept staring at me like I was supposed to acknowledge his presence. But I was way too cool for that. He has a new hit TV show. About southerners, I think, or anyway about some kind of trailer trash.”
I thought this one was going to be easy, but Josiah stared at me blankly. “He used to be a skateboard champ,” I said. “But now he’s a scientologist. He was in the papers recently because he named his child something crazy. Let’s see, ah, Pilot Inspector. That’s it.”
“I like the name,” Josiah said, “but I have no idea.”
“You, know, that Earl guy from My Name is Earl.”
“You’ll have to tell me.”
“Jason Lee,” I said.
Josiah still didn’t know who he was. “A Chinese man?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “Finally, we stumped you!”
Josiah didn’t like the sound of that. “I don’t watch TV anymore,” he said. “It’s too engaging.”
Josiah went away for awhile, presumably to attend to his tables inside. But when he came back he immediately announced, triumphantly, “I asked all the waiters in this restaurant and all the cooks, and no one knows who Jason Lee is!”
The implication was that this was too obscure a question, and therefore illegitimate. “Uh, it’s a very popular show,” I said defensively.
“You must watch a lot of TV,” Josiah said. (Copyright 2006 Ed Hamilton)
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