THE LENGTHS TO WHICH I WILL GO

So my glutenous correspondent and family member Cousin G. found a pamphlet from Boar's Head [Provisions Co., Inc.] about being GLUTEN-FREE. Cousin G. works right down the street from my old office, and on my last day of work we got together for one last lunch break. He had pizza, I had Pinkberry, and we sat in Washington Square Park, watching a man in a tiered skirt do a sort of a war dance by the fountain.

"Where's my gluten-free pamphlet?" I said, remembering his promise of yore.

"Crap, it's at the office!" he said, "I will GET IT ON THE WAY BACK."

We moseyed on back to Bleecker, sticking to the shady side of the street.

"I'll just run up and get it," he said. "Won't take a moment."

I waited on the sidewalk, in a sea of European tourists. I heard a shout - a faraway voice, calling my name.

Gravity: the great time-saver.

Oh my. There he was, up at the tippy-top and threatening to throw. Seized by the spirit of the day: Friday, my last day of work, sun shining, sugary frozen yogurt sparkling through my bloodstream, I shouted back:

"DO IT!"

A few passerby stopped to stare.

He threw - it fluttered - and yes, readers, an impetuous southerly gale whipped it up and slapped it back at the brick, and down, down into an unsuspecting tenant's balconette.

I hiccuped in my hysterical laughter, waving an imaginary flag of surrender. Then there was no choice but to walk away, pamphlet-less. Lunch time was nearly over. As I crossed the street, I received a text message on my phone:

"I am devastated."

And so, the desperate lengths the Dunn family will go to bring you the latest in Gluten-Free Information. From Boar's Head. When possible. Barring gravitational emergencies.