The Good Times are Killing Me
New York always leaves me happy, but I always leave New York sad. There’s a moral somewhere.
Thank you to everyone who made it to my talk yesterday — I was told we had about 55 or 60 people, with about 40% women, which if you saw my talk you know is kind of great.Â Afterward we retired to The Essex with something like 20 or 30 people, unbeknownst to the Essex. Half the crowd had to wait downstairs at the bar while we annoyed away the other diners in the upstairs space and drove the wait staff mad. Then we headed across the street to the Magician, which I remember very little of but have heard it was fun (we talked all night, oh but what the hell did we say?). I was operating on about four hours of sleep, having arisen at 5 that morning to catch the bus from Boston to New York, and my total caloric intake for the day consisted of a few pretzels, half an omelet, a pitcher of margaritas, and whatever they were handing me at The Magician (thanks, Josh, for kindly handing me water at some point). And so I offer this blanket apology for every silly thing I said or did.
Pics of the afterparty are after the jump. Those of you with pics of the talk, please post links in the comments or feel free to e-mail them and I’ll put them on Flickr.
I left this shirt at the bar. If you picked it up, please let me know or at least give her a good home.
See more pics on Flickr.