Pure-Plays, Martinis, and Broads

April 25, 2000

Last Friday morning, while walking to the PATH train from an Internet industry party at the Belmont Lounge near Union Square, I saw two people having sex behind the glass of the vestibule of an automated teller machine. It was just past 4:00 a.m., so they must have figured the coast was clear. In reality these two impassioned lovers were putting on quite a show for the three homeless guys and me congregated on the other side of the door. I won’t belabor this story with sordid details, but lets just say that I’m sure the HSBC (formerly Marine Midland Bank) security guards reviewing the surveillance tape later that morning got a good kick out of the whole thing. It’s probably available on the Web by now. Look up "pasty white buns" on Yahoo.

Only after I was on the train did I realize that I had met this couple at the party that evening. They, too, had met each other that night.

Hey now!

As one of the Marines in Full Metal Jacket observed, "These are great days we’re livin’ bros."

While the DotComers of my generation may not know how to run a profitable business, they sure know how to have a good time. There’s a Silicon Alley party every night in New York. Actually, there are four or five Silicon Alley parties every night in New York. If you’re poor and thirsty in this city, good luck finding a drop to drink. But if you’ve got a job and the business cards in your wallet have the suffix, ".com" printed on them, you can get drunk for free and stay drunk for free all week by going to launch party after launch party. All the while you’ll be drinking on some big anonymous venture capitalist firm’s dime.

The routine is simple. Someone (or several someones) will email you a list on Monday highlighting the events of the coming week. After work, say on Tuesday, you’ll stop by the new urban teen site’s blowout in Chelsea. When the Absolut—or whatever the co-sponsoring alcohol provided—runs out, it’s down to SoHo for the new B-to-B concern’s big bash. After two or three Heinekens there, it’s over to the East Village for the Industry mixer hosted by one of a dozen professional party throwers. Along the way, you’ll suck down a pack of Marlboro Lights and meet all kinds of flirtatious sassy singles.

Most everyone at these parties is single. You have to be single to succeed in the DotCom world. Most networking goes on at these parties and a good husband or mother will miss out because they can’t be out drinking til all hours of the morning. So the single folks drink and smoke and exchange cards. If you’re breathing you can get a date. If you’re halfway charming, you can get a kiss before you stumble home. And if you’re really lucky, you’ll get to drop trou inside the glass enclosure of an ATM.

If this life sounds appealing to you, send your resume to Any Dot Com, Inc., Attention: H.R. Dept, Silicon Alley, New York, USA. But get here fast. The wild party won’t last forever. When the clock strikes midnight and the coach turns into a pumpkin, all that’ll be left are unemployed lonely cancer-stricken alcoholics with no real business skills. But oh the memories they’ll have. The booze, the midnight flirtations, the stock options…all so highly valued before the band went home.

Broadway Jim