smaller than you'd think

For a city with a population of over 8 million people, New York is a lot smaller than it seems. About two years ago, I went to an ex-coworker's wedding and didn't know a single soul there. I made small talk with some people that were at my table. But once we ran out of things to talk about, I filled the awkward silence by pouring myself another glass of wine. I blame the bride and groom -- it was really good wine, not the usual crap they serve at weddings.

I got trashed. Not quite as bad as my most recent birthday, but I was seriously drunk. So much so, that I didn't object when one of the few single men ("FSM") at the wedding reception asked me to dance. He was a lawyer that had been at my old firm. He had left a few months before I started working there. He was a nice enough guy, and, given my extremely drunken state, it seemed like a good idea to join him and his friends at the after party at some club downtown. I say "downtown" because the wedding was at the NY Botanical Garden in the Bronx and Manhattan is downtown, relative to the Bronx. I have no recollection of where we drove to. I do remember being cold and him giving me his coat. What a gentleman.

After some more drinks at the club and dancing until the wee hours of the morning, I was in no shape to trek all the way to el barrio by myself, so he offered to let me stay at his place which was near Lincoln Center. Normally, I would say no. But, as a result of the vast amount of alcohol coursing through my veins, I said, "ok!". I think I might have thrown up in his toilet, but I honestly don't remember. I do remember the next morning when I had to do the walk of shame to the Columbus Circle subway station in the party clothes from the night before. Again, the gentleman, he walked me to the subway station and he asked for my number. My response? "Oh, just call the operator at work and they can connect you!" I think I may have still been drunk. In my head, this made sense as he did not have anything to write my number on -- in retrospect, I doubt that he took that as an invitation to call me. He never did.

Fast forward two years. My client tells me that the other party's lawyer will be calling me to discuss the transaction that I am staffed on. He tells me the laywer's name and gives me his contact info. I am instructed to call said lawyer if he does not contact me by tomorrow morning. Business as usual. I got a call earlier this afternoon:

Me: Evil Twin #2.

Caller: Hello, Evil Twin #2. It's [name that I did not recognize]. I'm not sure if you remember me.

Me: Uhhh... I'm sorry. I don't remember you.

Caller: We met at [old coworker]'s wedding. It's been a while. How have you been?

Me: Wow!! [in my head, Holy Shit! OMG, this is the person that's representing the other party...] Umm, ok!! How are you?

(I had translated the awkwardness I was feeling into an unusually perky speech pattern)

Caller: I wanted to call you before discussing the transaction. . .

At that point I tuned out, and in my head I kept saying to myself, "OMG, OMG, OMG, I have to negotiate a deal with a guy that I've made out with and whose toilet I think I may have puked in. OMG, OMG, OMG. God is punishing me.