Strange Lame Parties
August 8, 2006
"It's weird being here," Deborah said, discombobulated. "Working all day, then riding my bicycle home, then hopping on the back of the motorcycle, and here we are at a strange, lame party in DUMBO."
A friend of Deborah's invited us to a restaurant in DUMBO for a party that was half restaurant-staff party and half birthday celebration. When we arrived, Deborah's friend was sitting at a table in the backyard with two guys dressed identically in crisp white shirts unbuttoned to mid-chest. One of them was the girl's boyfriend.
"He's a little boring, but he's rich," the girl whispered to Deborah just before introducing us. "He's one of the top investment bankers in the city."
"Think about it," I whispered to Deborah. "This is New York City, the financial capital of the world. If he really is one of the top investment bankers in New York, he must be a billionaire."
"Yeah. Maybe he's just one of the top investment bankers at his firm."
“Right. Or one of the top investment bankers on his floor.”
The other guy was the manager of a restaurant where Deborah had once trained to work. The manager had given Deborah the runaround, extracting as much free "training" as possible, before Deborah finally gave up and found another job.
"You remember Deborah, don't you?"
"No, I'm sorry, I don't."
"That's okay, she hates you anyway."
After the introductions, we went inside to the buffet table. We looked over what was left of the free food: Two hot dogs, a pawed-over pile of cold, dry hamburgers next to a stack of sweaty American cheese slices, a bowl of soggy pasta salad, a single ear of shriveled corn, and a crusty collection of fried chicken breasts. "Oh well. It's free," I said, as we loaded our plastic plates. Deborah took a couple of chicken pieces, and I gambled on a burger, then we headed back to the courtyard.
Deborah's friend tried to get us to sit with her group, but we found a quiet table in the corner all to ourselves, instead.
"I don't want to sit near that guy."
"I don't blame you," I said.
Deborah thought for a moment and laughed. "It seems like we always wind up at these strange, lame parties."
"I know," I said. "I'm beginning to think it's the only kind there is."
