Trask Avenue

At 1:15 a.m. the streets all look the same. She took the glass offered by…what was his name? Ken? Carl? It didn’t really matter. All that mattered was she was drinking a Cosmo while riding in a limo through Manhattan on her 21st birthday. The world outside passed like disjointed scenes from a movie.

She felt bad ditching her friends at the club, but she never rode in a limo before. How could she pass that up? Ken (or Carl) invited all of them. Only she accepted. Her friends were too timid, still girls really. They bought into the countless cautionary stories about the dangers of New York, the kind of stories which never ended well. When they said “No” she wasn’t surprised. They were never the adventurous type, unlike her. This night was not going to be wasted in a lame club playing eye contact games with strange men. She came here to finally experience life, not to blend into the background. When he asked them to join him for a private party in his limo she knew she’d end up going alone.

They zipped past Smith’s Bar. She had no idea where they were. She noticed most of the neon in the word “restaurant” was burnt out leaving only the letters R-A-N-T. She thought that appropriate. People here talked loudly and forcefully. Everything was coated with anger. New York was a giant Rant and if you weren’t careful it would soak you up. But not her, not tonight.

She felt his hand on her knee. He whispered something while refilling her glass. He smelled faintly of musk and whiskey. The window separating them from the driver slowly closed. The glass was so dark it was impossible to see out the front. The vodka softened and embraced her with a serene haziness. She felt relaxed and confident. This is what she came for. Her whole life led to this moment, this moment roaming the streets of the world’s most exciting city in a limousine experiencing the thrill of the unknown. Ken or Carl was a small price to pay.