Our Own Algonquin Round Table

New York City. The Algonquin Hotel. Any given afternoon between 1919 and 1929: Actors, Critics, and other Witty Bastards sharp enough to hold their own in a conversation were to be found at the Algonquin Round Table in the afternoons.

For ten acerbic years, heavy thinkers met to be amused by one another’s company over long lunches and short attention spans. It’s been argued that the group (with a constantly rotating ‘membership’) helped define comedy for the next generation by shaping what was written in theirs. Oh yes: The group was filled with Writers, Editors, Newspaper men and women; who saw fit to publish the best quips, barbs, and anecdotes they heard at the Algonquin.

Eighty six years later, this is the closest comparison I can make to what Amanda and I got. If you’re not at that table; this is what it looks like, this is what it sounds like. We talk about our day. We talk about the interesting (and occasionally not so interesting) things going on with ourselves. And we tease each other mercilessly. And revel in it.

We mock. We poke. We prod. We laugh, sneer, blush, or roll our eyes and move on to the next round; glad and grateful to have a worthy adversary sitting across the table.

(The other thing I feel I need to mention: I used to suck at this. I took jokes the wrong way, and never dared to risk the same by tossing one back. I just didn’t get why people would deliberately tease a friend. I get it, now. I completely get it.)

The Simpsons encapsulated Wit with the following definition: “…nothing more than an incisive observation, humorously phrased and delivered with impeccable timing.” That’s what she and I have, and find that much easier; in one another’s company. We trade them like baseball cards, or launch them like shuriken. Take your pick.

Last night, she danced circles around me. She was in form, she had timing, she verbally ripped me a new one. Oh, I got in a few good jabs myself, but the night was definitely hers.

At one point, she really cut me to the quick. I took a butter knife off the table, pretended to pluck it from my ribs, and recognize her initials on the handle. “Is this yours? You want me to clean it off first, or keep it as is, for a trophy?” She just smiled and replied, “Keep it. I’ve got another one.”

She got me again, later on; and proved herself right. Dooooooh…

I look forward to our next run-in. There will be one. Oh yes, there will. In the mean time, I’ll have to sharpen my wits, make sure I’m primed and set for the next match.

Above, is a copy of The Vicious Circle, a tribute to the original Round Table elites, by Natalie Ascencios. Good company to keep, even eighty years too late.

Outstanding.