14th Nov 2002
Mean New Yorker, Nice New Yorker
We FON (friends of Nick) had a bit of a fright this evening. (I told him I wouldn’t scoop him on this, but what the hell.) Around 10:30 this evening, I got a call from a guy named Tony with a thick NY accent asking if I knew a Rick Denton (a boring little detail that he got our names mixed up, but the hyper-realism helps the story telling, no?). Anyway, the guy says he’s found Nick’s wallet, address book, passport and other papers on the street up by his place at 110th St. and 3rd Ave, and he had come all the way down to Nick’s apartment in Soho to return it to him (he’s the nice New Yorker), but Nick wasn’t there. He’d found my name in Nick’s address book, could I help.
Well, I helped as much as calling Elizabeth to get her to go meet the guy, because she lives a lot closer to Nick than I do. (Real manly thing to do, getting a young single woman to go meet some stranger on NY’s Lower East Side at 11pm under dubious circumstances.)
Elizabeth meets the guy and gets Nick’s stuff. Meanwhile, lots of phone calls to various friends to see who has last seen Nick. One fact seems most ominous: Nick hasn’t blogged all day. Elizabeth and I agree that is indeed creepy. Adrienne calls Ildi and in hushed tones they contemplate: he hasn’t blogged all day. I actually went so far as to call the police. Elizabeth and I agree it’s probably not worth pointing out to them the significance of the fact that he hadn’t blogged all day.
(First call to the number listed in the phone book for the police, strangely a 718 area code, which is Brooklyn, informs me the number has been changed and no more information is available about the party I’m trying to reach. You would think the NYPD would pop for call forwarding, but big city deficit and all. Next attempt I get a cop after 20 rings who seems to take me seriously but then disconnects me in an attempt to transfer me. I call again and after 20 rings the number disconnects itself. I call again and after 20 rings decide they’re probably not going to find him tonight anyway, so we’ll wait to see what the morning brings.)
The morning (around 12am) brings Nick, apparently safe and sound. Pickpocketed, I gather (that would be the mean NYer). All’s well that ends well, I suppose, minus a few dollars. Moral of the story: blog every day. And send Tony a box of chocolates, or something. His uncommon kindness certainly outweighs the meanness of a run-of-the-mill pickpocket.
UPDATE:
What a melodrama. Here is Elizabeth’s take on it. And Nick’s (with lots of bonus link, including my nasal, anxious voicemail to him). It is quite amusing this was such an incestuous bloggy thing.
And for the record, I didn’t actually file a missing person’s report. I was calling to inquire what the cops advised (which Elizabeth agreed was a good idea, it wasn’t just me being a worry wart), but I never got through anyway.
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