Family vacations have been rescheduled for it. Children have been abandoned at home because of it. Depression has been cured when it occurs.

Getting a table a Cuba Cuba on the weekend. It's the stuff of dining legend, and I wouldn't be surprised to learn any of those situations have occurred when the table availability gods blessed a would-be patron.

After settling on a strategy weeks in advance, my longtime friend and former roommate Suzanne Karlqvist and I planned to meet July 21 for her fifth attempt to get into Cuba Cuba. That's right. She had unsuccessfully withstood an inhumane wait to get a table on four occasions.

I, however, have been fortunate enough to somewhat easily get in to Cuba Cuba a few times. Once with my good friend Lisa to celebrate turning 24 on our shared February birthday. Once with a former roommate. Another time on a double date. But I shared the disappointment of the masses on our 25th birthday, when Lisa, our group and I opted to go to the also-yummy Benny's rather than wait two hours to get in.

Suzanne and I agreed that if she could meet meat the YourHub.com World Headquarters at 5 p.m. on the 21st, we could have a chance at getting in.

On the 21st, she told me when we talked around 4 that she wouldn't be able to leave work until 5. Uh-oh.

About 5:40, I started packing up in preparation. The phone rang. It was the front desk guard calling to inform me Suzanne was here. I grabbed her from the lobby, gave her a half-second tour of YourHub.com, dropped off my bag in my car outside and we were off to make her dreams come true.

Out of overwhelming giddiness or maybe minor heat stroke, I led Suzanne west instead of east on 14th Avenue. In full power walk and high heels, I confessed as we reached Fox Street that we were headed in the wrong direction. The patient Swede she is, she opted to not shove me into traffic. But maybe she was just keeping me as her guide only until the citrus-hued restaurant was in sight.

At Fox, we veered south to 13th and then rounded the corner toward Delaware. At Delaware, I correctly guided her south and there it was.

As we approached the doorway, Suzanne held her breath.

Once inside, the hostess asked, "Two?" and gathered a couple menus for us.

Suzanne and I crinkled our noses at each other in disbelief and I put my arm around her, proclaiming to the hostess, "This is a momentous occasion!"

I told the hostess Suzanne's history, and she congratulated her and guided us to our table.