Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Sometimes You Gotta Eat Crow First

Something strange is happening: the double-decker GreyLine tourist bus I've seen before, so that's not a big deal, but the fact that it's stopped, in my unremarkable, albeit kinda wealthy, neighborhood, in front of a People's Pops, with the Rockettes doing some kinda thing out there to entertain the yokels from Iowa or wherever, is sort of weirding me out.

So when the woman standing on the corner, and clearly affiliated with whatever hot mess is taking place (a crowd is gathering, a man in a fat man party shirt is dancing like a chicken while throwing in the occasional high kick), tries to hand me something, I give her the look that I give all people who try to hand me something on the streets, and make my way to my building.

But halfway down the block, something in what she said registers, and I do an about face.

I deflect her skeptical gaze with my most cheerful and humble smile, and say, "May I please have a popsicle?"

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