The guy in front of me at the supermarket purchased two items: A can of cat food and a can of Redi Whip. Looks like there's a good time to be had at his place this evening.
Yesterday, I encountered a confused looking young man on 10th Avenue. I asked him if he needed help. He said, "Yeah. I'm trying to find the 6 train." "Oh", I replied, "that would be about eight avenues east." "Which direction is that?", he asked. I pointed, "That way. About a 25-minute walk. It's not really that close." "Hey man", he responded, "I can do it. I'm a soldier." I looked at him a minute and said, "So ... what? Lost your GPS device or something?" He stared blankly and proceeded away. I'm guessing that lost soldiers don't have much of a sense of humor. Or direction.
As mentioned in a previous post (MILK IT), I live near the St. Francis of Assisi Church, so I often see Friars in the neighborhood. Yesterday, I saw a friar, wrapped in a red cloak, texting on the street corner! Now, I know that monks take a vow of silence, so I assume they're not allowed to text. But, friars take a vow of poverty and give up all personal property. So, unless that phone was found or stolen, that friar is in big trouble with the man upstairs. Even if he did find the phone, how would he know how to text? Better yet, who would he text?
Last night I saw a pizza delivery guy in a red shirt and red baseball hat ring the bell of a brownstone on my block. The door opened, and a guy in a red shirt and red baseball hat answered and paid for his pizza; taking no notice that he was wearing the same thing as the delivery guy.
It's weird enough that we wear other people's shoes when we go bowling, but what's weirder is that we stick our fingers in other bowlers' balls ... and then eat french fries and pizza with those fingers.
Around the block from me, in Chelsea, is a church that provides soup and meals to the local homeless folks. As I pass this church on a regular basis, I've become familiar with the people who go there. Not like we've had coffee or anything, but I know what they look like - especially since they wear the same clothes every day. The other day, I walked passed the uptown soup kitchen at Port Authority and saw two of the same guys getting their meals there. As I had seen them earlier in the day, I wondered if it was fair for them to get two free meals that day. And then I wondered if it was their little secret. Not that there's anything wrong with taking advantage of free meals.
While on the train to Chinatown yesterday, I observed the old man next to me reading the New York Post ... starting at the back page and making his way to the front. He was Chinese. And that's the way they read.