When we finally found the address, we discovered that Nick's apartment was actually in one of these warehouses. There was no buzzer, so we commenced yelling; it wasn't quite a residential neighborhood, after all. After a while, someone on a high floor opened a big window, and lowered something on a string. It turned out to be a dirty sock containing the front door key.

There was no elevator, so we had to walk about six flights to get to the place -- just shy of the roof. We arrived to find a pleasant, open apartment, already filled with people. East Village types, ITPers, a few cyber-celebrities like Jaron Lanier. The place had some curious features, like a raised bathroom with a window over the toilet that looked out over the living room. Much of the evening's entertainment consisted of watching the parade of bathroom visitors through the window. Nick's bedroom had no door and a glass wall. This was not a place for privacy.

Later, someone discovered the door to the roof, and much of the party moved up there. Here was ample justification for living in such a bleak neighborhood! We were just about under the Manhattan Bridge, with a wide view of the Brooklyn Bridge and Manhattan skyline. There was another view up there -- through a plexiglass dome into Nick's living room. His whole apartment was like living in a fishbowl -- a fishbowl with a great view.