David Brooks wrote a sports-related column in The New York Times in February of this year. I took special note of it because I was thinking a lot about sports at the time. In fact, days before the Brooks piece was published, I’d been in Boston watching the Super Bowl with rabid New England Patriots fans. I was watching them watch the game, in effect. Brooks happened to be writing about basketball, NBA star Jeremy Lin specifically.
Friday Night, The Levi’s Store, H-Market, Lahore, Pakistan. I’d tried on five pairs of jeans already. Why I needed five pairs of jeans I wasn’t exactly sure. But the Levi’s Signature Editions were eight bucks a pair and they seemed to fit pretty well. They were also taking my mind off things. I’d been having panic attacks ever since the blast in Karachi. Two days before, a one-tonne bomb went off in the downtown area, killing thirty-five people.
The fifty or so buildings on the sprawling Fox Studio lot in Beverly Hills, California, take three primary shapes: the sleek glass and steel of the executive offices in the southeast corner, the giant airport hangar-like sound stages in the middle, and the low-slung two-storey apartment-style production offices along the west edge of the lot. Strolling through this environment is an exercise in compulsory humility.
The knew that she was late, and her anxiety increased as she read the notice on the window of the pub: “Closing early. Christmas Eve. Have a wonderful holiday!” It was December 24, 1998, and that morning JC had called and asked her to meet him for a drink at Dora’s at five.
She knew Christmas Eve would be quiet at the university, so she’d gone to the office to confront a backlog of administrative paperwork, then lost track of time.