Sunday, December 9, 2007
The other night we had our office holiday party in the meatpacking district. I had overestimated how much work I had and was panicked til the last minute. The client's email wasn't working, I didn't have enough time to check my work. It was the usual insanity. Five minutes before hors d'oevres were to be served, I ran out the door.
Outside, it was freezing and it was impossible to get a cab. Mark called me from the bar to report that traffic was tied up with opening night for the the new Apple Store on 9th Avenue. I opted to take the subway and hoof it a couple blocks.
When I arrived, the party was hopping. There were lights strung in the windows of the restaurant, candles set on tables and an open bar that featured sparkling pink martinis. Smartly dressed waiters balanced trays of skewered meats and sauces. There were rolled things and fried things, and many, many drinks.
Dinner was surprisingly good. There were salads and steak. After desert and coffee, we had our traditional Secret Santa exchange. Earlier in the week, we had picked names and were encouraged to spend $25 for a gift. Most people spent more, since 25 bucks does not get you much.
I'd gotten my Secret Santa person a cute pair of convertible cashmere gloves from J Crew, which were fingerless gloves that turned into mittens. I felt generous and threw in a Sephora lip gloss sampler to boot.
The Secret Santa gift I received was not nearly so cute. I opened the hastily wrapped box to find a few novelty items - a toy camera gizmo, a Christmas ornament, a candle. Mark looked over at the box and said, 'There is no way a gay dude gave you those things. Those are from a straight dude.'
I tried not to look too disappointed in public. 'A gay dude would've at least gotten you a nice soap,' he went on. 'And it would've been wrapped better.'
'He probably ran out of time. He was probably stressed,' I said. 'Or maybe he thought I was 12 years old.'
'Definitely not gay,' Mark repeated.
We left before I could find out who my Secret Santa was. Now I'm dying to know.
Photo by myself in Brooklyn.