As of now I am starting to write a column on here from time to time that simply states “you know it’s time to leave New York City when…”
- You have a ton of fun dancing with a cute 27 year old and then you get robbed on Friday night, report it to the police, find your own wallet (sans cash and cards) in a trashcan that neither the bar manager, bouncers or police bother to look in and end up going to bed close to 6AM after spending an hour and a half with the police while simultaneously canceling every credit card you can remember you had in your wallet. The only details I can provide about my male friend, Peter, who was with me are that he is an old “friend” that I have known since college, he wouldn’t dance and was supposed to “watch” my purse but put it on a hook and basically got hammered and neglected to remember what I had asked. Hence my wallet was stolen. My little dancing king and his friend became suspects and they had to strip in front of the bouncers to see if they had my credit cards and $300 cash on them. It wasn’t. What an effing night.
- On Saturday night you attend an interesting fundraiser for two musicians from Russia, one of which won an award today at Carnegie Hall for being an extraordinary international musician and you end up with friends of friends in your car (i.e. strangers) going to a club (which you aren’t sureyou want to go to) and you get pulled over at a check point in the meatpacking district (where you knew something was up when there were cops everywhere and every street was cordoned off but you didn’t listen to your intuition and no one in the car agreed) and have no ID because you were robbed last night and then have to take six breathalyzers, YES SIX, because none of them “worked”. Thus, you have to speak to a variety of officers to explain that you are in fact sober and finally you reason with them enough to explain that this is a waste of your time and theirs (and taxpayer money) and you talk your way out of getting arrested.
- When you have more interludes with the police in a month than you have had in 13 years of living in Manhattan!!!
I learned tonight, that after three breathalyzers generally in NY one gets cuffed and taken in. Luckily, I dodged a massive bullet. It would have been a long night in the clink after last night. Probably any night in the clink sucks and I have always maintained, and always will, that I don’t need to experience that. The list of reasons to leave continue to pile up.
So I drove away smoothly and swiftly.
Came home with dear friend Trip (who showed up at the end of the breathalyzer extravaganza) in tow and I poured us a nice Johnny Walker Double Black. Neat. AHHHHHH…life in the city.