Heaven on the 32nd floor

One good thing that I can say about taking all of my meals through a G-tube is I'm well insulated from any salmonella outbreak.

American food manufacturers keep the FDA on its toes, as any peanut butter-eater knows. But as long as I pour my meals straight out of the tin can and directly into my G-tube, and mind the expiration dates stamped on the bottom, I feel I'm pretty safe.

Isosource is delivered directly to my doorstep, one month's supply at a time. It's been nearly a year since I have stepped inside any restaurant, and my visits to Ralphs happen only when I run out of bottled water or toilet paper.

My meals are also a tad dull. I actually can fall asleep while waiting for the Isosource to trickle down the G-tube, and I've got the stains on my sofa to prove it.

Wednesday I have a chance to break out of this routine.

A film I'm interested in is launching the 2009 Downtown Film Festival at the AT&T Center, and while trying to buy a ticket online, I got accidentally got stuck with a ticket for the film and a hoity-toity Gala dinner.

I had planned to swap the ticket for the Gala and replace it with admission to only the film. But then I read a description of the event. After the film tomorrow night ends, according to the festival's website, Gala attendees will be "whisked by high-speed elevator to the 32nd floor penthouse of the $35-million newly renovated high-rise complex [where] guests will enjoy catering by Rivera Restaurant, premium cocktails by Tommy Bahama Rum and beer by Karl Strauss."

I haven't been inside a penthouse since the '70s when I cracked one open at a newsstand. And a premium cocktail sure sounds more festive than the beige runny cocktail I feed myself out of a tin can every night. If Karl Strauss is going to all of the trouble of brewing a signature beer for Wednesday's event, why can't I open up my shirt, pull out my G-tube, pop open my syringe and ask a bartender for a splash or two?

He'd cut me off after 60 ml or so, but that should be enough for a mild buzz before that elevator whisks me back down to the ground floor and I take the Red Line home.

As for the catering by Rivera Restaurant . . . no, I can't eat any of it now, but that's why Tupperware was invented, right? Whatever goodies the catering crew is cooking up should stay stable in my freezer until I get my chops back.

So why should I go home after the movie tomorrow night and wet myself with Isosource again? Every now and then, you gotta punch the 32nd floor and live it up for a change.


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If you can, please join me at a protest at Pershing Square on Tuesday evening.