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It truly was a fabulous time in my life. Having accepted my dream job, my family looked forward to our new lives in a town far from our New York roots. I headed west, alone, as my wife and children remained behind to finish emptying the house, expecting to join me in about a month. My new employer was very generous, giving me full expense account privilege during the first two months of my relocation and a luxury apartment in the best neighborhood in town. From my posh 35th floor digs, I admittedly felt like one of Tom Wolfe's masters of the universe.

I settled into my new office and got to know my coworkers. On most evenings, after work and a couple of drinks, I would dine at a four star restaurant. On those nights that I didn't feel like a sit down meal, there was the gourmet take-out from the hotel next door. A dip in the 10th floor pool would usually follow and the evening would wind down in front of my plasma screen. Life was good.

The apartment was enormous. Two bedrooms, two baths, living room, dining room and a state of the art kitchen. Its floor to ceiling windows with breathtaking views were intoxicating as were the white leather couches and super plush carpeting.

When you walked out of the master bedroom, the first door to the right was the bathroom and the next was the front door. On one Tuesday night, about 1 AM, nature called. I arose from bed and headed for the bathroom. Admittedly, I was a bit sleepy as I opened up the door and stepped through. My haze turned quickly to total clarity as I heard that instantly recognizable sound of the heavy front door closing behind me. Did I tell you yet that I liked to sleep in the buff? Well, I did until then. I should also add that, now in my forties, my physique was not quite ready for prime time, if you know what I mean.

So there I was, locked out, alone and yes, buck naked. What was I going to do now? Knock on a neighbors door? No, I couldn't face them each morning after that. Nope.
I walked down the hall to the room with the garbage drop, figuring there would be something in the trash bins that I could cover up with. No luck. Apparently trash is collected hourly in luxury high rises. I stood there for a bit and contemplated my dilemma. It became increasingly clear that I had no choice but to travel the 35 stories down to the lobby.

I pushed the button and the elevator door soon opened. Okay, it was empty. Maybe this will work out, I thought. I arrived at the ground floor and stepped out slowly. Covering myself

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