St. Patrick’s Day

Way back when (2003ish-2005ish), I worked on 42nd and 5th at 11 West- the same building that housed, and perhaps still houses, Valentino, Michael Kors, and Martha Stewart in one elevator bank, and NYU classrooms on the other. I worked on the 28th floor- the fashion side of the elevators- until Tishman Speyer bought the building, raised our rent to an ungodly price and forced us to move out.

Before that happened I was able to ride the elevator with a great many celebrities and super models on a daily basis, and since this was my first job upon moving to New York I thought it all very regular and part of the “gig.”

Anyway, the day of the year I will never forget was the day of the St. Patrick’s parade where throngs of people crowded Fifth Avenue, and in a desperate search for a bathroom would not only enter our building, but further up and into our elevators, and even attempt to use our bathroom on the 28th floor. That was funny, seeing sanguine faced drunks amongst cubicles and everything else, but not half as funny as my all time greatest New York St. Patty’s highlight, which happened around 2:30 in the afternoon in front of the NYU Law School on West 4th below Washington Square, where I saw two very grown, very manly hard hat, Irish men weeping uncontrollably, and in only passing them for a moment heard in the thickest of Irish accents,

“You’re always trying to tell me how to live me life, brother! Why won’t you just let me be, brother?”

I can recall it and crack up in a heartbeat.

Have a Happy St. Patty’s, wherever you may be, and feel free to cry your eyes out if you wish,



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