My Gotham mentor partner, Flo Feinberg, has a wonderful favorite Yiddish word which she often tosses into our free flowing conversation. It is Bashert and it means "meant to be or predestined".

I thought of her special word last Saturday when we went into the City to see the Egon Schiele exhibit at the Neue Gallery located at the corner of 5th Avenue and 86th Street.

Our story opens with me dropping Joanne off at the museum and going off in search for a street parking spot. After a number of neighborhood traverses I landed on nearby Madison Avenue and 85th Street at the mercy of a hungry one hour Muni Meter.

Soon we were reunited inside the museum and after viewing the early 20th Century German art we repaired to the basement cafe where the German menu did not intrigue us. Instead, we decided to drive to a favorite Long Island City eatery. As we approached our car on Madison Avenue I spied a nice looking Bistro and proposed we lunch there. Joanne readily agreed and noticed that the neighborhood was familiar and remembered that her friend Carole lived nearby. I proposed she call Carole and invite her to join us for lunch.

It happens that it is both Joanne and Carole's birthday month and I suggested we celebrate over lunch with all the trimmings, including a smooth bottle of Pinot Noir. Under those circumstances lunch was perfectly celebratory and everybody was happy.

Looking back on our good time, one circumstance seemingly accidentally unfolded into the other as we followed them aimlessly toward our prize.

Bashert?