Today, while I was waiting for Devin at Bryant Park like I do almost every day, I saw a taxi pull over another taxi. My first thought was, "Who does that taxi driver think he is?" And then, "Since when do taxi drivers obey other taxi drivers?" And then, "Why does that taxi have a siren and flashing lights?" It wasn't until two policemen climbed out of the noisy taxi that I realized the deviousness of the NYPD. How do these poor taxi drivers have the slightest chance of making any money when they're always watching their backs for other taxis...who are actually POLICE CARS.
If the NYPD was to really play fair, they would disguise themselves as civilians and arrest people for jaywalking. Because people jaywalking is about as common as taxis committing traffic violations in Manhattan. Just food for thought.
In other news, I'm becoming a Ping Pong Playa master. (If you haven't yet, check out the movie Ping Pong Playa on Netflix. It's a gem.) Currently watching Martin and Devin throw down some moves on the table at the weekly Plainview YSA volleyball night. Someday, maybe, I'll be good enough to give them a good game. It will be at the top of my list to practice my table tennis while Devin is on his mission (I'm secretly hoping he will lose all his skills and I will own him...)
Anyway. I wore a maxi dress and sandals today because my original plan of skinny jeans, button-down and wedges was foiled when my skinny jeans started to meld to my skin from the sweat and humidity as soon as I put them on. It just wasn't gonna happen. But maybe sandals weren't such a good idea either...I'm staring down at my feet in horror of how filthy they are. Because here's the thing about New York: it's beautiful, but it's filthy. All the shiny parts are at the tops of the buildings and not where you have to put your feet. I completely understand why closed-toe flats are so popular here and I gotta say, I've been converted!
One last thought before I sign off...what is it with old gentlemen in the park feeling like I am a great person to start a conversation with? What the heck is it about me that makes me so approachable? I look literally exactly like every other loner girl in the park--headphones, scowl, the whole shebang. And yet, almost every time I'm waiting for Devin to get off work at Bryant I have the pleasure of being harassed with innocent I'm-lonely-and-you-look-nice questions by some old guy who just happens to sit at the little table next to the one I have already occupied. This means pausing my movie or looking up from my book and taking out my headphones to even hear the question. Sometimes I ignore them, but the persistent ones are hard to avoid. And clean tables next to outlets at this midtown park are hard to come by so it's not like I can just abandon my spot for another. Today I spent twenty minutes with my movie going pause-play-pause-play as some Indian guy complained about the weather, quizzed me on the state capitol, gave me some mundane college advice and lamented about the Arizona heat. It's so annoying, and I feel as though I've already done absolutely everything I can do to avoid these encounters, but they continue to happen. Maybe plastic surgery?
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