Outside Kelli's lower east side apartment, waiting for my car — car number 80 — in the cool, early morning.
It's cool, but I know it should be so much colder. It should be freezing. It's January 7th, and yesterday's temperature climbed above 70. People enjoy sudden outdoor seating at friendly neighborhood restaurants while squirrels wonder why they've been storing all these nuts. Something's wrong. I should be in bed.
About ten cabs try to pick me up. Groups of drunk young men and women come banging…