A not-surprise birthday party

I was invited to Margalit Friedman's 60th surprise birthday party.  I checked with her son, Beni, if I could arrive early because, as a rider of public transportation, I don't have total control over my arrival times.  He said, sure.  I found a flower vendor near the Jerusalem bus station, so with flowers (and my briefcase) in hand, I proceeded to Givat Ze'ev and the Friedman's apartment.  Walked down the 51 steps, knocked on the door.  A middle-aged woman answered the door.  My first thought was a friend or sister setting up the party, and I was prepared to identify myself.  But she said - you look so familiar...  I knew I had a problem then, because who would know me?  Thinking fast - coming up with nothing.  Then she says - "I know you, you're Deb.  I didn't know you were coming."  Crap.  Now, I know it's Margalit.  What do I do now?  I could have bluffed something except for the flowers, so I shoved them at her and came in.  Just tried to act natural.  Yeah, right.  Beni was in the kitchen (he's a trained chef), and he confesses that it's not a surprise party anymore.  But it wasn't my fault.  So then I told her "Happy Birthday."

It was quite the gathering.  David and Martha Stern (Complete Jewish Bible), various retired rabbis who have made aliyah, and the director of Bridges for Peace (Rebecca Brimmer).  And a bunch of other lovely human beings.  Beni made great appetizers, which all disappeared.  And one of the attendees played a couple songs on the piano.  She's really good.

Kay Wilson (jazz pianist & terrorism survivor)

I caught a different bus back to Jerusalem because it was chilly, and I was pretty sure it went back to the central bus station.  Within Jerusalem, it went through the Mea Sharim (100 gates) neighborhood, and I saw lots of orthodox men on the sidewalks and no women.  The timing was good for me, because the next bus to Beer Sheva was in 2 minutes.