Random Observations from a Day in the City

I've seen and heard some good things on the street lately.

Yesterday, a pack of teenage girls walked past our apartment on their way to school (I'm assuming they were en route to school, as it was 8:30am.  Unless they were on their way HOME from a late night....but I digress), and one of them said, "I want to go to Vegas SO bad."  The others replied, "Me, too!"

What in the world would a vibrant, beautiful, teenage girl want to do in....Oh.

I guess they could have a decent time.

Later, on the train, I heard a female twenty-something talking (a LOT) to a male twenty-something, about her fantastic new apartment, and how awesome her Lower East Side neighborhood is.  My favorite part was when she said, "But I feel like everyone on our floor is like, forty."

I put "forty" in bold and italics to emphasize the disgust in her voice as she said it.  As if people who are (ugh) forty are dusty, boring old crumbs of people who couldn't POSSIBLY appreciate that fabulous neighborhood, or remember what it felt like to stay up past midnight, or know who any of the cool bands are.

Honey, people over 40 are the only ones who can AFFORD that neighborhood without having to share a bedroom with another adult who they're NOT having sex with.  People over 40 not only remember watching the sun come up, but many still do, and SOME of us will be seeing the wee hours of the morning on a regular basis, as we are HAVING BABIES.  Finally, a goodly percentage of your cool bands are COMPRISED of people over 40.

So, suck it, Skinny Business Girl With Lots of Roommates and a Bad History With Men and Drinking (writer's elaboration.)  You should be so lucky.

Other cool things I encountered were a blues saxophone player on the corner of 77/Columbus, in the middle of a Monday, almost playing just for himself.  And I had a doorman sing part of "Pretty Woman" to me as Hank and I walked past.

And the BEST thing that happened yesterday was spotting a really handsome man on the opposite side of the street, doing a double take, and realizing it was my husband.

Surprise Sidewalk Kisses are the Best.

And so is living in NYC.