“I know it’s a bit much, but this morning I just needed a little extra flair. Besides, it’s not like I’m wearing white pants after Labor Day, unlike some clueless mares I’ve seen… Ridiculous.”
Central Park, NYC.
Dirk thought of childhood summers, of girls in bikinis, cotton candy, the sweet smell of salt and suntan lotion. He hated his job, hated the corporate lackey he had become. Maybe he’d get off at the next stop, escape, find that free spirit he so desperately missed.
Or maybe he’d just sit there.
Soho, NYC.
Finger Sandwich Friday: the city reminds us that summer is here. Time to get ridiculous.
Greenwich Village, NYC.
“That’s so true, darling. This morning while eating my egg white and kale frittata I was thinking, is there nothing even remotely interesting in New York anymore?”
Mercer Street, NYC.
Waverly Place, NYC.
As summer draws to a close, I feel a pang in my stomach as I anticipate the end of the NYC Summer Street Fair season. I recognize this ache from years past and I know what it means.
No longer will my weekends in the city be filled with ridiculous culinary wonders like the Mozzarepa or the gyro within a gyro. No longer will I be face to face with the overly tan, glammed out lady who runs the sausage and peppers truck, and no longer will I be forced to make the brutal choice between “sweet or spicy.”
Goodbye bonsai tree salesman. Goodbye family packs of tube socks. See you next year $25, 1000 thread count sheets. Best regards $1 CDs.
Yes, another summer is over and I must prepare myself to cope with missing the mixture of grilled meats and noxious fumes wafting through the air, and losing the joy of eating my foot long “grease bomb on a bun” while sitting on the curb with an inadequate amount of napkins, people jostling me as if for fun as they walk by.
Instead, I will look forward with anticipation to that first moment next spring when I spot those tell-tale white street fair tents from afar and I rush in a zombie-like haze to the ATM, just waiting for someone to ask, “bun toasted or not toasted?”… And I will love every ridiculous minute of it.
Until then, street fairs, I will be waiting.