Details of victory

Thank you, Andrew Krucoff for throwing the bash. Thank you, author Frank Portman for giving Krucoff a reason to throw the bash. Thank you Gawker Media for hosting the bash. Because your free alcohol (the lukewarm beer notwithstanding) took us to a place where we rarely venture to. (And thank you Pete for you awesome green shirt.)

Thank you, Crime Scene Bar & Lounge on Bowery for your cheesy, so-not-Downtown decor and the beer pong table. And thank you mostly to Alice and Dan for making this happen:

Some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this.

Early in the evening, Alice texted me "We are here" as I headed to the Gawker Media fortress on Crosby Street. I wondered for a moment whether she was announcing her arrival at the party or wandering into existentialism. It turned out to be the former, but as the night grew on, it became clear, we were indeed here. At midpoint of the night, I realized we were somewhere when I announced that I was beautiful no matter what they said, as words could not bring me down. The night climaxed with us asking the age old questions. Where did he come from? Where did he go? Where did he come from, Cotton Eye Joe?

And there was no more fitting end to the night than to walk out of the pizza shop and watch four douchebags in a New Jersey-plate Porsche convertible drive through NoHo, announcing to the world that they were living on a prayer and swearing they would make it if we took their hands (live the stereotype, the stereotype lives).

No thanks. They were only halfway there. We were already here.