Rockin' out for puppies

Standing next to anyone else at the ASPCA benefit in Union Square would not have been nearly as awkward or confounding, but really, he was the last person I ever expected to meet up with there.

Really, I'd just been out enjoying the nice weather (aren't we having lovely weather?) after strolling along the Hudson River with a friend, and I happened to hear the music. And I am a firm believer that anyone in constant pursuit of Adventure should always head toward the music if at all possible. So I went and nearly tripped over leashes about twelve times before I could even see the giant ASPCA banners. I thought I saw Jeaneane Garofalo. After a few moments of wandering through the thick of things, I turned around to see him, wearing a VIP badge. He grinned. I laughed incredulously. "So are you volunteering for the ASPCA now?"

"Not often, but I am a supporter." He was clearly amused at my disbelief, and seemed glad to see me. "What are you doing here?"

I chatted for just a moment longer and hung out watching the band play with him, but then I ducked away, still a little weirded out that I had my first bumped-into-someone-on-the-street experience in New York with AIG at an ASPCA benefit. I knew there had to be an angle... AIG is just not the kind of guy who volunteers for puppies out of the goodness of his heart! Then again, I guess this is just one more example of how you just can't judge a book by its cover, especially here in New York.

Now what am I going to do with all the call-girl flyers I had made up? And other, more morbid issues

Hung over as I was yesterday, I left work all geared up for an awesome night cuddling on my couch, ordering pizza, and watching the French Connection. My first New York pizza! It didn't work out that way, and although the night wasn't totally great, I'm actually pretty glad!

Basically, I was invited to meet someone out. A dude. A dude I barely know. A...dare I say it...date....sort of. I was hesitant, but I decided to go for it. After all, Newbie NYC says to never refuse an invitation...and having whined last week about not going out at all, why not!?

So I went. Two major things happened.

1. I saw a man fall down the stairs on a subway platform and crack his head open. Hemophobic as I am, I was scared as hell, but I just couldn't leave him! And other people were just stepping over him and going about their business....I know this is New York, I know people are busy, but GOSH! COME ON, people, have a little human decency and at least go the other way! I had these visions running through my head of me lying on that concrete, moaning unintelligibly, barely breathing, a pool of blood and fluid pouring out of my skull, suits and skirts stepping over my twisted legs... I called the station manager. Another nice girl stopped and called 911. I stayed until the help came. It was all I could do to keep from crying; I have never seen that much blood before. I kept wondering if that's how much blood came out of my dad... I felt so bad for that man, for his family... what if he has two little girls at home? What if he...

I couldn't stay. When they got there, I just couldn't stay to find out if he was... I just never want to know, because this way at least I have some hope.


I almost went home, but I didn't have R's number to cancel, and I also...kind of didn't want to go home. I kind of wanted a drink at that point. So I got on the train and wound up meeting him around 68th and Columbus...

2. R was...really cool! The only fault I can see so far is that he doesn't drink (not even a glass of wine with dinner? I don't know). And that's really just not that big of a deal, because he may have a very good reason for it. After I explained why I was late (still shaking), he read my palm. Very cute, and it totally helped to calm me down. He was still dressed for work, in smooth business casual--and me in my hipster uniform from casual Friday! He looked great in a tie. I only hope I looked great in glasses and pigtails.

I must have, because as the evening moved along he seemed to get closer and closer. We had the most amazing conversation about god and pain and living in the moment. I haven't talked like that with someone in a really long time. After two hours of thinking and talking about thinking and then thinking more, he suggested we grab a slice of pizza. Perfect! Ironic! Funny!

At the pizza joint he spoke Spanish to the guys behind the counter. And he's not just bilingual, oh no. He's multilingual. Amazing.

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PS - Speaking of call girls, go check out my sister's awesome post about Eliot Spitzer.

One New York first that I could do without....oh wait, this morning makes it two.

Last night I went out with my coworkers! It was fun! I got drunk! Really really drunk! And so, for the first time, Miss Adventurous rode the subway home feeling like she just might vomit.

It all started out alright...I hopped on the E train with the Data Guy and AIG (who is still A but, I have discovered, not really at all the kind of G for me). I was feeling all skippy and cute because I'd been on all evening and showing my coworkers how dope I am because I lived in the 'hood in New Orleans (read: I started talking like a Yat and acting like I knew everything). I was so on I was actually annoying myself a little bit, but everyone else seemed to enjoy my company and they kept talking about how fun I am, so whatever.

Anyway, I danced off the E at 4th street and suddenly, as I was decending the stairs toward the orange line, my fourth, on-the-house, glass of wine hit me in the face and the world began to turn a little. It was about this time that I remembered that the B stops running at 9:00 and I would have to take the D to Atlantic, and make a really obnoxious transfer to the Q, and do it all without losing the baked potato I had eaten earlier.

I thought about getting out and walking up to Union Square--after all, it was only 9:30 and being on terra firma couldn't hurt, in my nauseous condition. Just as I had decided to stumble back up the stairs though, the D train came and I forgot what I had been thinking a moment ago. I found a seat right away, and sat down. Eughhhhhhh... I got dizzy, so I stood up. I tried listening to my iPod, but it caused my vision to tunnel a little bit and I could feel the booze jostling in my tummy with every rock of the train. So I put the iPod away and just stood there, drunkenly staring into the black window and trying to look not drunk. I made it home, but I barely remember the clumsy trip from D to Q. And I'm super lucky I didn't get mugged en route to my apartment.

Once home, I promptly ditched several things: my coat, my bag, my hat, my retro-cool fingerless gloves, and then the entire quantity of wine I had drunk. Awful!

This morning completed the whole experience when I woke up with a particularly bad hangover. Somehow I managed to be out the door at 8:00, but I definitely learned a lesson about school nights.