How old I am

Was once again reminded of my age and station in life this evening at Dos Caminos, a trendy Mexican boite at 50th and 3rd, for my boy Phil's 41st birthday. It being Thursday, the joint was jumping and was packed with many good looking boys and girls of the 20s-30s variety. Time was, the girls part of that equation would have turned me on, but tonight I found myself grateful to be seated next to a guy from Westchester, with whom I could compare commuting tales and discuss children and the joys of being a "consultant" in such a fucked-up economy (he used to sell structured products for a bank, now is assessing one of the injured bond insurers).

In the bathroom of this joint, some junky sycophant in a monkey suit turned on the tap for you when you turned around from the urinal and tried to spritz your hands from a decorative soap dispenser, all in hopes of getting a tip. If I wanted a servant, I'd live in a frickin emerging market, that's what I say to that.