andy cogbill .com

Two workmen survey the wreckage that once was the World Trade Center, with the World Financial Center in the background. I neglected to mention in this post that the bright white lights are Ground Zero; I live not two blocks south of where it all went down, so to speak. Just some trivia for you.

Anyhow, I went out last night for the first time since moving here. I realized many things: Firstly, I need to go out more. It was fun. Secondly, New York is a big place until people get a little alcohol in ‘em, and then they’re no different from a random person you might see at Middlebury or wherever. For instance, late last night — around 2 AM — I decided I just wanted to get home and didn’t want to fool around with the subway or anything. So I hailed a cab and, in my most professional-sounding voice, told him exactly where to go. And he knew where it was.

So when we got close, I started really recognizing where I was and knew that, in order for him to actually get to where I needed to go, he would have to do three sides of a square (lots of one-way streets around) and I’d probably have to pay a couple more bucks to get to my home — which I could practically see. So I told him to stop and that I’d just get out there instead and, while he was making my change, a woman in her mid-twenties came up to my cab and asked me if she could have it. Which seemed odd to me in the first place, since it wasn’t exactly my cab, but I said “sure” real friendly-like. At that point I stepped out of the yellow and, holding the door, she turned around to me and asked me, “Do I still look pretty?” I’m glad I was tired, because I didn’t laugh — the girl looked like the physical manifestation of how you feel at 2 AM — and just said, “Yeah. Have fun.” She smiled and got into the car and it drove away.

Then, once I had gotten to my apartment building, I was standing and waiting for the elevator when a guy came in and asked me if I was there for the party in #7C. I live in #7D. Right next door, obviously. So my heart sank and I said no, I didn’t even know there was one going on, and he said oh yes, there most certainly is — but it’s mostly Wall Street CEOs and “‘ho’s”, he concluded. I said, “Yeah, there’s a lot of ‘em around here.” We both kind of paused, and I added, “Wall Streeters…” He laughed and then asked me, “What’s your ideal kind of party?” Taken aback by this drunken non sequitur, I was like, “It… depends… on my mood.” He looked hard at me and nodded and told me that was a really good answer. Okay, buddy. You go enjoy that party. Maybe there will be a pretty girl there.