A jaunty foray into a first cold for the baby descended into
a nightmare last week when Austin was sent to the ER after a febrile seizure. I
will not recount the details here, because they are burned into my memory with
a searing pain that will never allow me or Hayden to forget.
A few days after Austin's fever passed and Hayden's cold subsided we decided to venture out. Hayden's new old boss Ruth was having a holiday party in the late afternoon. Before that we decided to stop at an Oriental rug store in Bethesda that was having an auction to see if we could find something nice, but not too nice for the middle of our living room.
We parked and I ran in to case the scene ahead of Austin and Hayden. It was as expected: lots of rugs in a small, rundown "it's all about the rugs" shop. There were about 20 people sitting in chairs listening to an auctioneer. It was a retirement crowd. There were no kids or younger people. I hesitated.
One of the shopkeepers approached me and was quite friendly. She encouraged me to get the baby and even helped us carry the stroller in and around some of the rug piles.
They registered Hayden and me and gave us our own auction numbers. We peered behind the register and on the shabbily paneled wall were pictures of the owner with Bill Clinton and Dick Cheney and a various and sundry big politicians.
We were hungry. It was lunchtime and they had a huge spread of Middle Eastern food that was delicious. One of the women even ran around collecting non-spicy chicken and rice to feed Austin.
As we stuffed ourselves, we watched the scene unfolding. Two guys in work clothes were perched up above the crowd dangling rugs over a platform for them to view. The rugs were stunning and the auctioneer barked numbers and factoids as fast as one would imagine.
A few days after Austin's fever passed and Hayden's cold subsided we decided to venture out. Hayden's new old boss Ruth was having a holiday party in the late afternoon. Before that we decided to stop at an Oriental rug store in Bethesda that was having an auction to see if we could find something nice, but not too nice for the middle of our living room.
We parked and I ran in to case the scene ahead of Austin and Hayden. It was as expected: lots of rugs in a small, rundown "it's all about the rugs" shop. There were about 20 people sitting in chairs listening to an auctioneer. It was a retirement crowd. There were no kids or younger people. I hesitated.
One of the shopkeepers approached me and was quite friendly. She encouraged me to get the baby and even helped us carry the stroller in and around some of the rug piles.
They registered Hayden and me and gave us our own auction numbers. We peered behind the register and on the shabbily paneled wall were pictures of the owner with Bill Clinton and Dick Cheney and a various and sundry big politicians.
We were hungry. It was lunchtime and they had a huge spread of Middle Eastern food that was delicious. One of the women even ran around collecting non-spicy chicken and rice to feed Austin.
As we stuffed ourselves, we watched the scene unfolding. Two guys in work clothes were perched up above the crowd dangling rugs over a platform for them to view. The rugs were stunning and the auctioneer barked numbers and factoids as fast as one would imagine.
Well folks, this is a
fantastic Persian from the city of Tabriz in the sunny northwest corner of Iran
where artisans painstakingly labor over the detail for at least two years. Can
I have $10,000? How about $9,500? How about $5,000? Folks, this rug is signed
by the artist. Note the intricate scalloped design along the edges. Can I get
$2,500? $2,500! How about $2,750. $2,750! How about $3000? Can I get $3000?
Going…going…sold for $2,750.
And of course that all came out if his mouth in about 30 seconds. People were buying and it was going fast. As I gulped down my kebab, a little afghan rug, about 2x1 came up. Price tag was $450. Opening bid $50. The next thing I knew my hand flew up and I was the owner of the rug. Hayden looked up, mouth full of dill-spiced rice with a big "huh??" expression on his face.
It felt good, in that, I just won a few quarters in the slot machine kinda way. In fact, after spending what would become the rest of the afternoon there, we concluded the set-up was very much like a casino. No windows, lots of food and drink, friendly service: the Trifecta to get you to spend money.
Hayden and I knew what we came for. There was a break in the action and we were encouraged to pick rugs we'd like to see auctioned. We went to the pile with the size we had in mind and the owner's son generously helped us flip through about a hundred rugs. We saw several that were amazing. One caught our eye early and the son went into this long spiel about where the rug was from, what the details meant and its worth: Qom (a place I had visited on my Iran trip), four seasons pattern, $12,000.
You see Hayd, we have champagne taste. Hayden looked unamused.
But then he got excited and so did I. Auction fever was setting in and we wanted in on the action. A few of our rugs came up on the platform. Our arms twitched. Not yet, we have to wait and see what the champagne will cost. We plotted our pricing strategy. No matter what we were not going over $1,000. Interestingly, when we arrived that threshold was much, much lower.
Then our beauty dangled before us on the platform. All the details rattled off in rapid succession by the auctioneer. Oh gosh oh gosh, how low will he go??!
Can I get $10,000? Gulp. How about 5,000? Gulp gulp gulp. Twitch twitch. And now $2,500? Ahhhh! Stay on target. Stay on target.
Ladies and gentleman these rugs are going for a steal. This one is a sophisticated blend of silk and wool. It is signed by the weaver. $1200. I’ve got $1200 (What?! Who the hell is bidding on our rug?!) Can I get $1,400? $1,400 from the gentleman holding the baby and sweating bullets. $1,400 going once. Going. Sold to 131!
And of course that all came out if his mouth in about 30 seconds. People were buying and it was going fast. As I gulped down my kebab, a little afghan rug, about 2x1 came up. Price tag was $450. Opening bid $50. The next thing I knew my hand flew up and I was the owner of the rug. Hayden looked up, mouth full of dill-spiced rice with a big "huh??" expression on his face.
It felt good, in that, I just won a few quarters in the slot machine kinda way. In fact, after spending what would become the rest of the afternoon there, we concluded the set-up was very much like a casino. No windows, lots of food and drink, friendly service: the Trifecta to get you to spend money.
Hayden and I knew what we came for. There was a break in the action and we were encouraged to pick rugs we'd like to see auctioned. We went to the pile with the size we had in mind and the owner's son generously helped us flip through about a hundred rugs. We saw several that were amazing. One caught our eye early and the son went into this long spiel about where the rug was from, what the details meant and its worth: Qom (a place I had visited on my Iran trip), four seasons pattern, $12,000.
You see Hayd, we have champagne taste. Hayden looked unamused.
But then he got excited and so did I. Auction fever was setting in and we wanted in on the action. A few of our rugs came up on the platform. Our arms twitched. Not yet, we have to wait and see what the champagne will cost. We plotted our pricing strategy. No matter what we were not going over $1,000. Interestingly, when we arrived that threshold was much, much lower.
Then our beauty dangled before us on the platform. All the details rattled off in rapid succession by the auctioneer. Oh gosh oh gosh, how low will he go??!
Can I get $10,000? Gulp. How about 5,000? Gulp gulp gulp. Twitch twitch. And now $2,500? Ahhhh! Stay on target. Stay on target.
Ladies and gentleman these rugs are going for a steal. This one is a sophisticated blend of silk and wool. It is signed by the weaver. $1200. I’ve got $1200 (What?! Who the hell is bidding on our rug?!) Can I get $1,400? $1,400 from the gentleman holding the baby and sweating bullets. $1,400 going once. Going. Sold to 131!
There was absolutely nothing responsible about this
purchase. We are now broke, with a rug too beautiful to have baby and dog
crawling all over it. Sigh. The things we do to recover from trauma!
Oh my gosh...you had us right there with you! Fabulously recounted...why don't you send this fun little essay off to a magazine or newspaper for publication. It's one of your best...you have so much talent in the recounting of this. Congratulations on a gorgeous rug that neither baby nor dog will appreciate but you will love.
ReplyDelete