I was going to write all about this but Thor ( http://www.livejournal.com/users/thornyc ) has done a much better job than I could have. Suffice to say I was at my first Beefsteak, and for those of you who know me , you can imagine how I felt to be at an event where waiters bring endless platters of food, that you are encouraged to wolf down using your hands. Everything served was admirable. To top it off, Thor and I were drunkely mistaken for brothers who were professional wrestlers. This by a guy who actually had wrestled in college and who was so attractive that I would have said that I was secretary of state had he wanted me to. As you can imagine testosterone ran high in the room. The one thing that irked me was the way that a number of attendees wouldn’t shut up for a second during our hosts’ brief and jovial remarks. It smacked to me of the blase, “I’m too important for any place I find myself” vibe that is the worst aspect of New Yorkers. I mean, if you were coming to an event like this, then get into the spirit of it, or don’t come. Yes I shoveled beef into my face with my hands. Towards the end of the evening, stuffed with meat and flushed with beer, I actually had to stop after a single bite of chocolate cake. It was a ludicrus, privileged, american moment that left me exhilerated and abashed.
Afterwards, the misty walk down Fifth Avenue reminded me of late nights in San Francisco, and also of the thing that I love about New York: the feeling that one is a tiny part of it, and yet the owner of it.