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When I suggested to Eleanor at 1am that we head to the top of the Empire State Building, it wasn’t Doug The Finance Guy speaking.
No, it was Doug The Filmmaker. Remember him? The guy who spent most of his life drafting, writing, filming short films that occasionally levitated to production status. I almost forgot about him.
But, like all good ‘plot twists,’ The Filmmaker emerged when I least expected it: at my most intoxicated state, on a pseudo-date with my neighbor, in the middle of the West Village street.
Eleanor: What are you doing?
Me: I’m getting into this cab.
Eleanor: Ha – what? Really? Are you kidding me right now? It’s 1am.
Me: It’s open.
Eleanor: How do you know?
Me: I wrote about it once, in a script. I had to look it up.
Eleanor: A script? What do you mean? You write?
Me: Get in the…
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