Speculation has been rampant on how Jay McInerney broke his foot. How could he who carries the mantle of downtown literature do his job when hobbled by a mangled gam? Dana Vachon weighed in unhelpfully when Radar nosed around. And finally McInerney himself explained. We should have known, it happened at the Waverly Inn. It involves summer truffles and for some reason, the dropping of 16 names and nearly as many acute accents. (Bernard-Henri Lévy, a French TV fellow named Frédéric Beigbeider.) Did you know that the Waverly is something of a buffet of literary-star-fuckers?