Freaky Sky Over the East River
Tag Archives: midtown east
Even though I would never even consider stealing snotty, germy, needy little kids, I’ll admit that the temptation to untie this little guy from the trashcan and run away with him this morning was pretty intense:
As much as I love that dogs are allowed into so many places here, I almost like it more when they have to wait outside.
I wonder how many of them get stolen every day by girls with allergic boyfriends who just want a couple hours of slobbery fun. I’ll bet the Bramble in Central Park has been colonized by kidnapped puppies released back into the wild.
The snow bunnies go out to play!
Kamran finds that the snow is perfect for packing, much to Katie’s chagrin.
The view down 42nd Street, the only street that seemed to get any plowing.
The treacherous walk down the 42nd Street bridge stairs.
The line between the shoveled part and the unshoveled part of the sidewalk looks like a cutaway in a science lab.
With the snow piled so high, the benches in the Tudor City park look like comfy couches.
And with a single snowball thrown, one picture of yellow snow taken, and matching Sauconys soaked, the snow bunnies burrowed back into Kamran’s apartment for the day.
There seems to be this misconception outside of NYC that all the things you hear about New Yorkers being mean are untrue, that people living in the city are actually helpful and unselfish despite the stories to the contrary.
Sometimes, to tell the truth, something wonderful will happen here, and I’ll start to think maybe I’ve misjudged everyone.
But then I’ll peer out the bus window, through the glass bus shelter, and into the drugstore at 42nd and Lexington and see this lady smoking inside:
I tell myself she’s smoking one of those fake cigarettes that only emits water vapor, but I think we both know that’s not true.
Sometimes when I’m in the elevator up to Kamran’s apartment, I’ll dig around in my bag for my keys for so long without finding them that I’ll start to believe everyone’s noticing it, and it becomes embarrassing for me to the point that I’ll pull something else entirely unrelated out with an expression of triumph like, “Ah-ha! Found what I was looking for all along, you guys!”
And it’ll end up being, like, my checkbook. Or a baggie of ice, because yes, I steal ice from my workplace. I somehow believe this is better than continuing to dig.