After Party
Matt Horan, where have you been all my life?
I can recall numerous Saturday nights that go like this: It’s last call, the bar is closing and my feet are killing me after hours of dancing. But I still have to trudge to the subway in my 4-inch heels, wait an eternity (standing) for the train to come, and then walk the remaining half-mile home—and all the while I’m kicking myself for choosing fashionable over functional footwear.