I saw that dnd now offers free wifi, but I wasn’t about to trek down there with the lappy. Why? Because my experience with DND in Manhattan is that if they aren’t crawling with crackheads, they’re located almost directly next to a methadone clinic. Imagine job hunting while surrounded by jittery, angry, men of the moment. Hmm, could be inspiring. Anyway. I needed coffee this morning and an IV drip wasn’t a bad solution, so I put my puffy black vest on, slipped on my flipflops, and headed out the door to the DnD on 2nd, between 11th and 10th. It is located directly across form Cooper park.. or Cooper… well anyway, everyone who’s anyone sleeps on those benches and you can also buy a bra or two being sold from the fence prongs. I walked into my coffee dealer’s and in front of me was a crusty bag of bones. Behind me was a guy who only formed half his sentences and stunk of Factor’s burps. I ordered my coffee and skittered out of there, thanking myself for not trying out their free wifi.
But what i really want to call out is the walk home. It’s my favorite kind of day today. It’s dreary, it’s crisp, it smells CLEAN, and the roads are only slightly wet so they’re a slick black. I was almost at my corner, which houses an eclectic movie theatre when I see, in front of that theatre… the number ten. A really short wide guy in a navy blue hoodie and his friend, a tall skinny scraggly blond fellow in the same type of hoodie. They waved their arms in exasperation at the ticket window.. which wasn’t open yet.. and continued on to the movie poster for that god awful looking piece of cinematic toilet cereal: Mr Magoo and his fabulous castle — or whatever that movie is with Natalie Portman looking like a small boy and Dustin Hoffman looking like he likes small boys.
“Wazzzzzz iissss?? Wazzzz issss heerrre!?” = growls the 0 in 10. He taps his rolled up newspaper on what might be Natalie Portman’s hooha.
“hummmmunahhaaaa” – lurps his pal, the 1 in 10.
I slowed my walk because I like to avoid confrontation from wild street people.
“Wazzz isss… like… Willie Wonka smoked crack ‘er sum’tin?” – short and round
“… sorta..” – tall and skinny.
As I rounded the corner I heard short and round explode into a diatribe of fuckin’ and bastard and son of a bitch.
Everyone’s a critic.
