Tuesday night, after dinner down in the West Village, I headed up to my Upper East Side neighborhood for a late-evening drink with my brother Andrew and his business partner Parker.
I met them at Trata, a trendy Greek seafood bistro that happens to serve delicious white sangria.
Parker, a former financial big wig turned consultant, joined Andrew in giving me the scoop about their current venture capital project involving new medical technology and an heiress investor with spellbinding charm.
We also talked about my shortlived candidacy for Murphy-Goode Winery’s highly coveted Lifestyle Correspondent gig.
Earlier in the day, I had learned that I didn’t make it onto the Top 10 shortlist of contenders. Given how stiff the Top 50 competition was – seven other New Yorkers among them, including a guy with Food & Wine magazine on his resume – I wasn’t too surprised.
Once I got over the disappointment that I won’t be living on a vineyard for six months, I was actually relieved. Had I made the final cut, it would have been tough to weigh my wanderlust against my love for NYC. Because, for as much as I’m a travelgirl at heart, there’s still no place I’d rather be than the Big Apple.
2 comments:
Agreed. If there is a place to be stranded, it is NYC.
Amen to that!
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