In the News
It reminds me of a time in the early 1990s when I was living in a fourth floor walk-up in NYC. It was the type of place that once you climbed the stairs after work, you never wanted to go back down again. Sort of like the Mt. Kilomanjaro don't dash back down for a sandwich once they're close to the top. Anyway, there was a deli on the ground floor and one afternoon my friend Liz and I phoned in a nutritious order of cigarettes and beer, for delivery. And when I gave the address, the man on the phone said "do you want to pick it up? You're in the same building" and I said "no, we don't have legs" because apparently that was less mortifying than admitting that we were just that lazy. But don't worry, I learned my lesson well. Now I'd order online and spare myself the phone humiliation.