Knicks, Ewing, Meatpacking . . .

Missy and I had floor seats to the Knicks game Saturday, and it turned out to be a fairly good game between them and the Toronto Raptors. I hadn't been to an NBA game in a while, and had forgotten how many girls like to paint on their tightest outfits and parade around through the arena, hoping to gain the attention of rich NBA players so they could have a drink or maybe get impregnated afterward. Whores.

And it was Legends' Night at Madison Square Garden, so several former Knicks, including Patrick Ewing, were honored at halftime. And about an hour after the game, as I was talking to Missy at Pastis in the meatpacking district, I noticed her eyes get bigger than the red wine stain I just provided on her new white winter coat when Ewing slid toward the hostess' desk.

That man is tall.

But the place was so bustling that even he couldn't get a table for a late dinner, so he left. And Missy wanted to continue to stargaze after we finished our drinks, so we went down the way to Cielo, the line for which didn't move for a half hour because the place really wasn't even open yet. But once we got in, the place got crowded quite quickly, and not surprising for a velvet-rope establishment, most of the people were pretty darn attractive.

That's not typically my scene unless the friendly and hot cocktail waitress asks me why I look so familiar and engages me in a lengthy conversation. In this city, I don't think I look familiar to anyone, but perhaps she liked my new sweater or how my ass looked in those jeans. I was asked the same question by a Scarlett Johanson-looking gal -- true story -- whose boyfriend was on her arm. An hour or two later, we found ourselves together on the dance floor as my sister used her own charm to stall the curious boyfriend. I can't remember the gal's name but it's on a bar napkin in one of my pockets somewhere, and she felt intoxicated enough to tell my sister that she was going to marry me.

The fun even continued on the ride home. All the cabs seemed taken, but there were a lot of other cars providing service uptown, and two gals remembered Missy and I from Cielo, and asked if we wanted to get in and join them to split the fare. Lovely of them, wasn't it?