A math question

If a boy leaves the sanctity of his own home after a good cello/piano session to meet his friends at a bar in Union Square, is moved toward future sports recreational endeavors, then leaves at a decently acceptable hour for home, then waits 20 minutes for the maintenance-plagued late-night L train, then while on said train encounters the same black leather-jacketed Australian (in the same black leather jacket) that his at-the-time female companions randomly met on the sidewalk a week previously and invited posthaste to a houseparty that same night (and who incidentally showed up with several of his friends), then answers "wherever you're going" when asked where he is headed, then impetuously alights from the train "for some party these kids are spinning at" with said Australian (who has since realized the maintenance-plagued late-night L train is running on the opposite track and he is heading in the wrong direction), then pays five dollars for a cab to Le Royale on Seventh Avenue, then gets to the door and is asked by the door guy over ridiculous (and not in a good way) house dance music who he is there for, then is told to wait for "The doorguy," then is told to "come on" (and not in a good way) because "The doorguy" can't let in two dudes who didn't bring chicks because he "has to keep the ratio of girls to guys at 20:1" - but that this was apparently an understandable thing because if said boy "was upstairs, [he] would be crying, it's so sick" - then leaves this sad perpetuating of the myth of rigid sexuality/douche-i-ness, then walks back to the exact same Union Square subway station, right down to the exact same fluorescent-orange-vested maintenance workers standing in the exact same space at the bottom of the stairs, the waits 15 more minutes for the exact same train to Brooklyn, then finally returns to the (relative) warmth of his humble attic-like room, how far has he really traveled?

Ah, but he has hummus.

And he knows patience and hasn't yet eaten his fill of love.