Possumblog

A long time ago, I sat at a bar on 24th Street in New York City.

I was drinking a Rolling Rock and talking to the guy next to me.

He said, "Most of life is boring. How you cope with boredom is another question."

And it is.

Indeed so.

Little do you realize that when that man left the bar and hesitantly wove his way down the street, he was suddenly and viciously accosted and dragged into an alley, robbed of his wallet and his pants, and told to sing La Marseillaise.

How do I know this?

Because I was bored that day, and needed some cash and some entertainment. And a pair of pants.

By the way, when the comments were broken, Miss Janis sent along this correction to her original post:

23rd Street. It cuts nearly all the way across Manhattan.

I lived in a fourth-floor walkup on 24th.

I could use it again. The stairs, I mean.

Thankfully, I have learned to do without pants.

23rd actually does cut across all of Manhattan, ending at the Chelsea Piers, where one can now ice skate, horseback ride, bowl, hit golf balls, do gymnastics, and a host of other things. Not usually at the same time.

You can find out about Madison Square Park that interrupts 24th street and the Garden that used to be there on this site.

Boomer grandchildren.

But I will always love New York. I need more.