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| I
left work on September 10, 2001 feeling anxious. This was nothing
new. I was worried about losing my job even though I hated it. Often,
in leaving work to attend an event, I was afraid of angering my superiors.
In my mind, it seemed I could never stay late enough to satisfy them.
I was going to the annual Manhattan Theater Club pie-off in Brooklyn
with my girlfriend Jamie, her co-worker Sharon and Sharon's fiancée
Manuel. The pie-off was an unknown, something Jamie had invited me
to and I therefore felt compelled to go. Back then though, I pretty
much hated going anywhere; I liked getting home after work and crawling
into my little cocoon. My office was in Rockefeller Center then. From there I walked to Jamie's office which was on 43rd street between Eighth and Ninth avenues. Outside it was wet and stormy. After hustling downtown through hordes of people in the humidity, standing close around the pole on the Q-train made me miserable. I felt sweaty and unkempt. I was acutely aware of a bulging belly, moist armpits and pants that were either too lose or too tight around my (real or imagined) distended waist. It took us about an hour to get to the house on Rutland Road. I felt jealous of the people who owned this huge, beautiful house in a part of Brooklyn I'd never been to before. To combat the paralyzing self-consciousness I feel at parties at which I don’t know anyone, I drank a lot of whiskey very fast. It helped. I ate some good food, but was jealous of everyone else for being able to eat the various meat dishes which looked so scrumptious. They'd chosen Jamie to be a pie-off judge, which was something of an honor. I enjoyed watching as she suffered through tasting one bad pie after another. I was proud for her and I felt important being the boyfriend of someone who they held in high regard even though she hadn't worked there very long. It made me think that at least one of us was a significant entity at his or her place of work. We left the party at around midnight; cars had been ordered for us. It seemed a generous thing to do, and again I marveled at the apparent camaraderie that her officemates- even the higher-ups-were cultivating. Drunk in the car, I chatted amiably with Jamie's interns. When we got home, I went to sleep feeling easy and somewhat happy. |
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