In 2001 I was working at the very tip of downtown Manhattan, at One Battery Park Plaza. It was late summer and David Bowie was slated to perform at a concert in the park there later in the evening. Around 3pm I heard the unmistakable strains of 'Let's Dance' start and then fade out, start and then fade out. I quickly realized I was hearing a live rehearsal of Bowie, right outside my window.

I got up so fast that my chair went rolling behind me into the wall. It didn't have far to go; my office was the size of a shoebox on the 35th floor. It was literally the width of the one window in my office, but I didn't care: I had a window.

I cranked it open. Now I could hear him perfectly. I couldn't believe my luck--David Bowie was right outside my goddamn window. My hands started to shake as I jammed the buttons to call my mom, also a huge Bowie fan. I was speaking in such a blur that she asked excitedly, "David Bowie is outside my window?" as though he were serenading her, Romeo-style, under her second floor bedroom window in Westfield, NJ. "MY WINDOW! BOWIE" I barked several times, until she said "Well let me hear him!"

The window had a lever that I could pull down for maybe 4 inches of space, so I stood right up against the glass and shoved the arm that was holding the phone through opening, and waved it in the air, as close to the stage as possible. I danced this way to a few songs, sometimes bringing the phone back to my ear to exclaim how cool this was. During a moment when I had the phone out the window and was moving around in the only way one can in that position, I heard a noise and turned my head to see the CEO, CFO, and head of Human Resources standing in my door.

How long they had been watching me be a complete nerd is unbeknownst to me. They were murmuring to each other, possibly about what I was going with my time at work. "David Bowie...he's outside," I offered meekly. But they didn't acknowledge me. I zoned in on their conversation, and discovered they were talking about the music. They started dancing, still clutching their binders.

Such is the power of Bowie.