“We’ve raised nearly twelve thousand dollars already,” she whispers to me from beneath the hat of a Pokémon Go Trainer. The cost of admission tonight goes to an organization that promotes math and science learning to children from lower-income homes.

“That’s amazing. I’m proud of you,” I say as she waves at a man with a white sheet over his head. He’s no ghost—his costume is marked with 404 error—webpage not found.

She turns back to me, eyeing me from head to toe. “And I’m proud of you. I knew you were crafty,” she says, gesturing to my ensemble, “but this is a whole new level.”

I curtsy, no small feat in my short white dress—it’s not the wedding dress though. It’s a new one I picked up on sale. The remains of my wedding dress adorn my arms. “Why, thank you. If I don’t nab a job at a publication, I’ll consider making costumes from discarded bridal wear.”

“You’ll get a reporting job like that,” she says with a snap of her fingers. “You talked to Henry, right?”

I nod since he’s one of the tech bloggers she wanted me to meet. “And Caroline as well,” I say, naming the woman who works as a producer at a cable business network. I chatted with her briefly about doing some on-camera reports. “She said I’d have to ditch the three earrings if they were to consider me.”

“You’d obviously ditch the earrings.”

“Obviously. And also, obviously,” I say, giving her my most deferential nod, “you were right that it made sense for me to attend.”

She smiles brightly. “Of course I’m right. Now, before you try to skip out of here early, you need to talk to Evil Kermit. He runs a podcast network that just started. His real name is also Kermit.”

I give her a look. “He’s named Kermit and he dressed as Evil Kermit?”

She crosses her heart. “Swear. We funded the tech his network runs on. He’s the front man for it. And he gets a kick out of his name.”

“Evidently,” I say, keeping my eyes peeled for a guy in green.

She scurries off, and I weave through the crowds, passing a woman dressed like Candy Crush, and a couple of guys wearing animal masks and ears, so they’re Snapchat filters. Like a surveyor, I scan the crowd as music plays, a mix of rap and hipster, and I’m pretty sure it would be some sort of sin to play Ed Sheeran or Taylor Swift here. God forbid the taste be anything but ironic.

When I spot a man in green, he’s removed his Kermit face mask, and he looks exactly like Seth Rogen, a little round in the middle with a thick beard and glasses. I head over and introduce myself. “I hear you’re the man to meet,” I say, then tell him I spent six years at the paper, covering the internet business and writing industry features.

He scoffs. “I know your work. We don’t exactly do your type of journalism,” he says gruffly.