Always Leave While You Can Still See Straight
Leave it to me to celebrate the occasion of my thirtieth birthday with inappropriate remarks to a coworker.
Since I turn 55 today, please indulge me in a brief birthday reminiscence.
On August 14, 1997, I had a lot to celebrate. I’d been living in New York City for nearly two years, I had a reasonably popular site on the burgeoning World Wide Web, I was making a small reputation as a science fiction writer, I’d had a screenplay about my missionary adventures optioned by a McKenzie brother, and I finally had a decent-paying job at a tech startup that came with the added benefit of lots of close new friends — not to mention the chance to meet rock stars like Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee. Oh, and I was turning thirty.
My crew of work friends took every opportunity to party hard, so despite the fact that it was a Thursday night I was able to recruit nearly a dozen to make the trek to my neighborhood in Brooklyn for some food and libations. A few of my writer friends who lived nearby met us early in the evening at a nice Mexican restaurant, together with my girlfriend, whom I was eager for the gang to meet. Our table was long and raucous. I believe I had a margarita with my chimichanga. I know when I tried to kick in for the check I was forbidden by the…
