I have met Gary Garritan. I have dined with him. I have supped with the Mind That Created All This. I have experienced the power, the magnitude, the splendor of the Magician Of All Our Glorious Madness.
I have also heard loud playings from his laptop at the restaurant table, and been chastised by Crusty, Grande Dames across the aisle, saying, "Will you turn that down, please!?" (Whilst to myself I posited many caustic and vicious responses, none were voiced. Though certainly many were appropriate. And well-deserved.)
I have met his incomparible partner. There are no words to convey her glories and worthinesses as Goddess Of All. An awed silence must accompany the merest thought of her presence. For she is the Rosetta Stone which anchors our Magic Host, surely.
I have learned, first-hand, of new and yet-unreleased developments for the Garritan realm of technologies which will send all who revere the magic and marvels we experience at his hands into a cataclysm of inexpressible ecstacies. To those who may only guess at these yet-to-be-perceived spectacles, I say: Get A Room.
The only aspect of this reverent and shatteringly-profound encounter which tells all is this: when we sat down at the dinner table, Saith The Gary: "Is this okay? I mean, you're not, like, a militant vegan or anything, are you?"
To which I could only reply,...
"Uh, ... yes, actually,... I am."
It was all downhill from there.
Don't ask me more.
I'm not talking. Though I certainly could.
I, too have been in the presence.
Alas, the Goddess was not in attendance.
I was introduced to Zeppoli (Zeppole? for the uninitiated: delightfully decadent balls of deep-fried, sugar-dusted dough)
Gary was introduced to crazed Tom Jones fans.
A memorable occasion...