One of my coworkers and I went to the Burberry/Elle party last night. The people were beautiful and the drinks were delicious. Come the end of the evening, it was POURING outside. Anyone who has ever spent a rainy evening in Manhattan knows it’s easier to sneak onto an airplane than get a cab in Soho when it’s pouring. My coworker was headed to Balthazar with her latest fling and I was left on the corner trying to hitch a ride home.
A man stood on the corner trying to hail a cab as well. He had no umbrella, so I skipped over to him and covered him with mine.
Me: Might as well work together, right?
Him: Aren’t you sweet. Thank you.
Me: Well I wasn’t just going to watch you get drenched.
Him: Where are you headed?
Me: East Village.
(black car pulls up, window rolls down)
Him: (to the man in the car) Ole, I’m still waiting for one of my friends, could you please take this woman home and come back to get me? (he looks at me) This is my driver, Ole. He’ll take you.
Me: Wow, thank you, that’s so kind.
(I get in the car, he answers his phone and waves the car off.)
So I did what any girl who just met a man with a driver would do: I tore a page out of my book and wrote my name and number on it with liquid eyeliner.
Chivalry, kindness, and romance are all alive and well in New York City.
