Midnight at the Hotel Gansevoort

I just came back from a business trip in the NYC. It was a three day educational affair for our clients (and us), with experts speaking on everything from high level trends to new technologies, case studies...the works. And at night there are dinners, socializing, etc. So, Wednesday night, we had dinner, and then I went with the pack of clients and my colleagues to have a drink at the Hotel Gansevoort in the meatpacking district.

So, I'm talking to one of my coworkers and one of our clients, both of whom I'd just met, and...okay, here's the thing at these events. I'm new, first of all, so I don't know anyone. Secondly, we're mixing offices--people across the country--so no one knows who is who. Thirdly, we're there with clients, and you don't know who they are, either.

Anyway, I'm standing there, and this guy comes up to talk to the three of us. He's this Indian guy, dressed in a suit--which we all were--dressed up, not Indian--and he stands there and says hello. So, we all smile politely, and say hello. And then he just stands there. And it is AWKward. You have to understand that 90% of the people in this area were, in fact, some sort of business associate...though there was a couple making out next to us against a window like the ship was going down...and I'm not entirely sure they weren't with our group...but, I digress. So, me being the charming, lovely and beautiful human being that I am, ask if he is having a good time.

The young man said yes, then he took a sip of his drink, and then he says, "I'm here to pick up business."

Okay, that is odd...because it's late night and we're basically in a bar...a fancy clubby Manhattany hotel bar, but a bar nonetheless.

So I ask, "What kind of business are you in?"

Meaning, "Are you a drug dealer? What kind of business could you possibly be picking up at the bar at the Hotel Gansevoort after midnight on a Wednesday night?"

He says, "Wall street." Then, he gets a funny look on his face and he frowns and says, "Not business."

And I ask, "What?"

He says, "Not business. Bitches."

And I say, "Excuse me?"

"I'm here to pick up bitches."

Okay.

When I finally stopped laughing, he was still standing there. I wiped my eyes, and nodded. "Well. I gotta say that's honest. Good for you! That is quite an original approach you've got there."

He stared, and did not crack a smile at any point... but he also didn't leave. So then I calmly explained that I am not the type of bitch he was looking for.

And he says, "Why? Are you married?" (Yes. That's the reason.)

"Yes, I'm a married bitch."

"Oh."

"Yes, thank you, though. I appreciate the thought." Move along, psycho.

But you know the worst part? If I'm being honest? I am secretly thrilled. That crazy high-or- whatever-he-was fool tried to pick me up. Still got it. Raaar!

Later, bitches.