magicbeans. nothing if not awkward.

First, back story. Something you likely missed because I never wrote about my West Coast trip.

The first night in Hollywood, Wednesday, after the pre-conference tour of Historic LA, after ordering something from room service (a salad? a veggie burger?) and spending a few hours working on the bank project that was supposed to be finished before I left New York, but for which I hadn't received the final documents needed to begin work until that morning, I put my conference badge back on and headed down in the elevator to the pool where the opening night cocktail reception was being held. A few floors down, the elevator doors opened and a girl also wearing a conference badge stepped in. 'Hi. I'm Stephanie,' she extended her hand.

'Bean. Nice to meet you.'

'So where are you from?'

'New York City.'

'Really? So am I. I work at the Natural History Museum.' Over the next few days we ended up travelling in a lot of the same circles. On Friday, the slowest day of the conference, when a lot of people headed off for an afternoon at the beach, or to explore LA, she called. 'You want to go hiking in a state park? Views of the Pacific. There's this whole canyon completely within the city limits.'

'I really should be working..'

'Come on. You're in California. It's a beautiful day. I rented a car. You should come.'

'Okay. You've talked me into it.' In truth, I really didn't require a whole lot of convincing. Who wants to spend a beautiful Southern California day locked away in their hotel room? 'When are we leaving?'

'Why don't we meet in the lobby in about 45 minutes?'

Topenga Canyon State Park was amazing. The promised views of the Pacific were obscured by a thick fog that was sitting on the coast, but a few miles inland, where we were, it was bright and sunny, hot but dry. We followed a trail through the desert scrub, down a rocky canyon path, that promised a waterfall. Eventually down into the valley, wetter, greener.

Eventually, realising that we were going to have to walk back out the way we came, and thoroughly unable to find the waterfall in question, we turned around. The return trip was more gruelling. Whether the afternoon had actually gotten hotter an brighter, or if it was just in comparison to the valley bottom is a pointless debate. It felt hotter. And for New Yorkers, used to things being flat, climbing out of a canyon requires more than we're used to giving.

'We're going to die here,' Stephanie said melodramatically. 'If I pass out, you're going to have to carry me.' And, 'Do you ever kvetch?'

'Sometimes. Mostly internally. I tend to be pretty stoic.'

That night we crashed the party in the presidential suite being held for the conference big-wigs. Well, not exactly crashed. She had been invited by one of said big-wigs, and although the party had not been advertised in any public way as an official conference function, it wasn't as secret and exclusive as it was fun to make it out to be.

The last day of the conference we didn't see much of each other. She called in the afternoon and asked, 'Where have you been? I'm going through Bean withdrawal.'

'I'm really working today. I've got to make a pretty good dent in this project if I'm going to be able to leave for San Francisco tomorrow.'

'Are you planning on going to that party tonight?'

'Yeah, I am.'

'Well, I'm not. But if anything's going on afterwards, give me a call.' It felt a little bit like the end of The Breakfast Club. We've been friends for a few days in the unreality of Hollywood, but when we get back to New York and our real lives are we ever going to hang out?

I did call her after the party (itself another story) but got her voicemail. 'I know your phone hasn't been working that well out here. If you do get this message tonight, and not tomorrow afternoon when you're back in New York, a bunch of people are apparently going bowling.' She didn't get the message until she was at LAX in the morning. She did call back from New York, when I was in San Francisco. I told her I'd call when I got back to the city in a week or so.

I finally did call, a week back in New York. 'I'm out at Lincoln Center,' she said. 'I can't really hear you. Can I call you back later?' She didn't. Two weeks later I got an email inviting me to her birthday party. I'm terrible about responding to email. On Monday she called me from work. 'My cellphone hasn't been working. You never responded to my email, so I wanted to make sure you got it, and invite you again to come out for my birthday.'

Which was tonight. And I did come out. Originally the plan had been hustle and disco dancing at Lincoln Center's Midsummer Night's Swing, where a security guard from the museum was DJing. The torrential rain forced the party instead to a midtown bar. But when I got off the train it had cleared, and there was a text message informing me that they were headed to Lincoln Center after all.

And although, aside from Stephanie, who in reality I really just met, I didn't know anyone, and aside from the fact that even if its the music of my childhood I really don't care fro disco, I had a good time. After the dance closed down, we walked south into Hell's Kitchen, and got drinks at a newish bar named Valhalla (I think there had been a Thai restaurant in the space a year and a half ago). And while we sat in the bar, the rains came and went again.

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[ And as always as the train pulls through the station at 168th... ]