Several years ago I was here when it was the Cairo nightclub for a friend’s birthday. I had worked here once part-time, so the evening was filled with a lot of free drinks. I had way too many. My friend Jen volunteered to drive me home, and I woke up the next afternoon fully dressed on my bed without remembering a thing. A friend told me what happened, according to what Jen had told her: Jen could not find my keys, so the doorman let me into my apartment; but first we went into the wrong apartment! I was mortified. I didn’t talk to Jen about this, and months went by, and I was sneaking past my doormen wondering which one it was and if all of them know. The next time I ran into Jen she clarified what actually happened: the doorman did give us the keys as we couldn’t find mine, and when we got into the apartment Jen said, “So this is your new place?” and I said, “No, this isn’t even my building.” Wrong apartment in the wrong building. To this day we don’t know exactly what building it was. Once Jen told me, there was quite a bit of relief that I hadn’t embarrassed myself in front of my doorman.