FRANCKLY - a gala

The fact that this would be my last Gala as an employee of The Grand was only further heightened by a 20 year reunion in the making. Alison Franck, a classmate from Syracuse, would be my date for the evening; in fact, the weekend. After packing up more items on Saturday morning (I was nowhere NEAR ready), I had to then pack up a suitcase for the hotel, and pick up my tux. Alison’s bus arrived around 1:45, and I dared not be late…not after 20 years.
Alison and I have been catching up for some time on Facebook, a true use of the site’s utility for staying in touch with old friends. She is a longtime fan of The Beatles, and it was a natural ask for me to see if she wanted a getaway weekend; Alison, a casting director outside of New York, was grateful for the chance to have a little holiday before the holidays…and to play dress up and see The Fab Faux, a band that authentically recreates the sound of the Beatles, was icing.
I was moments from picking her up, when she texted me to see if I was on time; I assured her I was, and just as I pulled over to park and put my hazard lights on, the bus was pulling in. I stood at the back of the bus as she disembarked. There she was, looking chic and sublime in her black overcoat and couture cap. We hugged with the strength of twenty years, and she quickly began updating me on her journey; Alison speaks as quickly as she IMs on Facebook, and soon I was caught up on her escapades in getting from New York to Wilmington.
We did the five second tour (that’s about all the time it takes) up and down Market Street, and we nestled in front of The Grand as I showed her the splendid façade of my soon to be former employer. We had to go inside, as our tickets for the Gala were in my also soon to be former office. There, the facility and technical staff were knee deep in final preparations, getting everything spit spot. Alison did not get the full splendor of The Grand, as the theatre lights were dimmed for sound check with the band; still, she got the sense that an elegant evening awaited.
Once we toured the rest of the building and picked up our tickets, we moseyed up the block to one of the few vendors open on Saturday. Lapp’s Rotisserie was a quiet respite where we had the entire place to ourselves to catch up, and Alison, a bit famished, could enjoy a buffalo chicken wrap. Alison eats well, and I honestly wonder where she puts it; her figure doesn’t give out clues. Knowing the spread that was to come that evening, I opted for a simple coffee to settle my stomach. We killed time catching up on love won and lost, of days gone by and plans to come, and, after a few errands (I needed socks, she, hosiery), soon it was time to check in.
It is often fun for me to observe another’s wonder through their eyes, and Alison’s awe at the lobby of the Hotel duPont was one of those moments. The luxurious surroundings, decked out in holiday regalia, only added to my amusement as I observed her dropped jaw and wandering eyes take in exactly where we were staying. She wanted to be certain we had rooms near each other, to which the concierge complied, and once we settled in, I encouraged her to take time to enjoy a long bath, as I planned to do the same. Little did I know what I had done.
There is nothing like a really good bath, with fluffy towels and spa finery. The Hotel duPont is such a place to lose oneself in such luxury. Each of us now pressed and dressed (and very well bathed), we descended to the lobby to meet Melissa for a drink and were soon thereafter at The Grand, awaiting the opening remarks and performance.
I had mixed feelings about schmoozing with board members for the last time; many of them kept wishing me luck and pulling me aside; I tried to laugh it off, saying there would be plenty of time for goodbyes, and we had a Gala to put on, “now get in your seats!” I especially did not want to make Alison uncomfortable with these varying accolades; I just wanted us all to have a good time.
And we did. The performance was as splendid as any I’ve seen; the tribute to the Copelands, longtime supporters of The Grand, was heartfelt and honest; the audience was clearly moved, me among them, and the band’s dedication of “All You Need Is Love” to them was, all told, the cap of the evening.
My last official duty was to hand off the overcoats of Mr. & Mrs. Chairman; a duty I’ve been performing for years. It prevents them from getting caught up in coat check lines, and eases them on their way to the after party, where they can continue to tout The Grand. Alison waited patiently as I did this last task…and then…I was officially free.
I did not expect everything to go so quickly without such pomp and circumstance, but I was actually grateful. Alison on my arm, we walked up the block to the after party, where an evening performance was letting out at the Dupont Theatre; congestion galore. But we were soon swimming with the crème de la crème, and Alison was enamored with the entire shindig. As a long time attendee, I forgot the wonder of the Gala…had taken it for granted. I lived vicariously as she enjoyed the raw bar, carving stations, breakfast foods, chocolate fountain, dance rooms and face painting. As the night wore on, I realized how few of my co-workers I had seen; Alison had kept us busy running from ballroom to ballroom…and I also wanted to be certain to spend time with a few key board members whom I knew I would not see again. As she indulged me with this gift, Alison charmed my friends and found a few of her own along the way; we took the traditional photo in front of the lobby Christmas tree, and that is where we wound up spending most of our evening – until of course, it was time for coffee and donuts in the lobby lounge.
As the hullaballoo of the night subsided, we found ourselves in a corner, dipping into donut holes with all the toppings and trimmings one could think of, and a few very close colleagues joined us as we brought the evening to a close. It was the perfect end to a perfect evening; I could not have asked for more.
Bidding my date adieu, I drifted off to sleep, but not after a good fight with room service (I had actually forgotten to EAT at the after party, imagine that). As I later learned, Alison had another bath…and then another the next morning…seems I’d started a trend. We departed the next morning for Philadelphia to take in a matinee of Hairspray at The Walnut, in which a few friends of mine (and hers) were performing. We continued to catch up and share our lives, past, present and future.
She is a remarkable woman.
And I owe her a great deal; whether she realizes it or not, her company that weekend gave me much needed solace…peace, away from the hustle and bustle of packing…of moving…of…leaving.
I dropped her off at Filbert Street Bus Station, hugging 20 more years into her. And then…was on I95 back to Wilmington.
For the last time.