Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Outside Headquarters

The bold red font of the electronic “news crawl” wrapped around the building, disappearing into an adjacent Broadway marquee. Beneath the moving headlines was a pretty, frozen-faced blonde, playing in Technicolor across three enormous television screens. She looked out at me and the Midtown office workers, her over-glossed lips seductive, taunting. The eyes of T.J. Eckleberg, I thought; she’s surveying the emotional wasteland that is Midtown Manhattan.

Is that what I want—my face on the side of a building, my lips reciting scripts of tragedy, death and heartache? One hour before my interview: too much time to sit and wrestle with fate, stare up at the woman whose job I was supposed to covet.

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