Vanity Fare, cont.

16 Years Later
Fast-forward 16 years later and here I am, somewhat of a poser myself, regaling my connection to the head table to a virtual stranger.

Nonetheless and allthemore, my shameless name-dropping was merely a moment of my conversation with him, and in a way my anecdote about my amity was still quite genuine, as I did feel a sort of strange affection for this wayward couple somehow, if only by association, if only by affectation, and those small pockets of partying we did together.

Feeling caught up in the moment, beaming with the same sort of false sense of pride I had during my ride up Park Avenue, after Keith commented upon the quaint effectiveness of Tom’s speech and the influx of those ambitious souls who migrate here to make their mark, I gushed in similitude by quoting E. B. White, a native New Yorker and the author of Charlotte's Web:

...There are roughly three New Yorks...the city of those born here, the city that some commute to and the city of those born elsewhere...

Of these three trembling cities the greatest is the last - the city of final destination, the city that is a goal...

Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness; natives give it solidity and continuity; but the settlers give it passion.

I beamed with a flush of pride as I bastardized White’s words, making up for what I omitted with a firmly clenched fist that punctuated the word “passion,” the utterance of which almost always magically invigorates me, and makes me want to go out and conquer the world.

Next: Nuclear Flatulence

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l.m