Thus unfolds the comedy of errors plaguing my recent trip to New York.

Brewgal realizes she has spent too long drinking coffee and checking her email and now only has 30 minutes to pack before leaving to catch the train.

Brewgal makes the train only to remember she forgot 1) hairbrush, 2) camera and 3) cash. Brewgal vows to prepare earlier for future trips.

Brewgal arrives at Penn Station. She takes nearest stairway and discovers that it goes not to the main level of Penn Station but to the Long Island Railroad (LIRR) level. Brewgal cannot figure out how to get to main level but spots an ATM. While attempting to withdraw cash, Brewgal discovers that she has forgotten her PIN number. Cash is not withdrawn at this location.

Brewgal does eventually find her way to 7th Ave. Line for cabs is horrendously long, so she decides to walk. How far can it be?

Brewgal realizes she has forgotten how far it is to the W New York (49th and Lexington) from Penn Station (32nd and 7th). She makes the mistake of cutting across on 45th street, which is filled with patrons awaiting entrance to theatre matinees. Brewgal is forced to drag her suitcase along in the street and prays that she is not struck by a car/truck/bus/taxi.

Brewgal survives 45th street, only to be stopped at 5th Avenue by a parade of unknown origin. Apparently it is Pulaski Day. The only Pulaski Brewgal knows is the chief medical officer on the Enterprise.

Brewgal finally makes it to her hotel. Lexington Ave is closed for a street fair, at which she obtains chicken satay and a Pashima. Life is good.

I've decided I just can't have too many of these on hand. Yet another woman in my office is expecting a baby in the spring.

Thursday was Octoberfest day in the cafeteria. The offerings included bratwurst with sauerkraut, brisket with horseradish sauce, brussels sprouts with bacon, and curried potatoes with jalapenos. Correct me if I’m wrong, but jalapenos are not native to Germany. Perhaps this was the Nouvelle Cuisine version of Octoberfest. They should have named the dish Nuevo Potato. And where was the spicy mustard? Brats without mustard just don’t cut it for me.

Get it? Mustard? Cut? I crack myself up.