>No one seemed to notice my patchy sideburns at the fancy schmancy NYU “Young Alumni Leaders Circle” Patron level (I wish I was being sarcastic when I wrote that) event tonight. This was probably because our hosts’ apartment was on Fifth Avenue facing Central Park. The views of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the reservoir, the obelisk, and the park in general were stunning.
The apartment itself was fascinating. We were mostly in the formal living room, which was filled with fancy expensive furniture and modern art. No one sat down the entire night. I almost sat on a pristine white chaise-divan thing just to see if anyone of the help would shoo me off. Also, everyone was afraid to put their drinks down on the fancy tables. No coasters were in sight. I thought our fuzzy leopard print coasters would go well with the understated modern furnishings, but oh well. My favorite piece of art was a small statue on an end table in the hall outside the apartment. It seemed to be of Theodore Roosevelt on a horse wearing a giant Cossack fur hat with some feathers hanging down. When no one opened the door at first, I suggested that we use it to bang louder so that they would hear us. Husband gave me a dirty look.
Initially, I was my surly usual self, not very good at networking. I hung around by Husband mostly. After we’d been there about 30 minutes, the trustee of NYU who hosted the event made a speech about how NYU nurtures students in their nest and teaches them to fly. I approached her a bit later and told her that in my experience, NYU breaks your wings and throws you off the mountain to die. She patiently listened while I explained that the administration works for its convenience, not for the benefit of the students. Then we went off to find Husband so she could thank him for bringing me. She was probably wondering how to prevent him from ever doing so again and yet still get him to donate to the school.
Not long after I chatted her up, I went to use the facilities. I was disturbed to find that the bathroom door, which was disguised to blend in with the bedroom wall when it was closed, would not stay shut. Just as I left a zillion fingerprints on the mirror on the inside of the door and was giving up, one of NYU’s development staff offered to stand guard for me. I went to do my business when I realized that the apartment across the way had a direct view of the throne from their kitchen. Closer examination revealed that there was no shade to pull down. I wondered how they used the shower, which had a clear glass door. Did they just wave if their neighbor was puttering around the kitchen while they washed their naughty bits? I decided that is what I would do if someone saw me on the toilet.
All in all, I am not sure that I would go to another one of these events, but I was pleased. The hors d’oerves were tasty (little juicy hamburgers on brioche rolls – amazing, and yet quite messy), I had the chance to bitch about NYU to a muckety-muck, and the opportunity to see how the other half lives was worthwhile, but I really still hate NYU and networking events make me nervous. At least no one mentioned my uneven facial hair.