An interaction at the end of the night made it clear that our new home is the new epicenter of gay social life.

When we returned from dinner last night (we do not move in until Wednesday, but had a gathering to show off the space), there were two women and a young man punching buttons like crazy on the keypad. I lifted my FOB and waved it over the square on the side of the door, which opened the entrance for me.

“Can I help you?” I asked them. Jose, the security guard, was standing between me and the trio. The young man said, “we’re here for the penthouse party”, and gave OUR unit number. I said, “That’s our unit, but that party ended hours ago and we haven’t even moved in yet. Who are you? Who told you to come?”