Day-to-Day Life in the City

On New York City streets you'll see just about anything.

Last night I took a walk to Duane Reade (the local drug store) and Gristedes (a local grocery) to pick up a few items. In Duane Reade I overheard a baggy-pants teenager (complete with do-rag) complaining to the cashier about his recent arrest. "I stabbed two kids. I had to cuz they was robbin’ me."

Interesting. I crossed the street to Gristedes, got my groceries, piled everything into my purple tote back with rollers, and started the 4-block walk home. At the 51st Street crossing, I saw a man get hit by a taxi cab just ahead of me. The walk signal was on, so the pedestrian was within his full legal right. But the yellow cab flew through the cross walk and clipped him anyway. The pedestrian was leaning over grasping at his leg as if in pain as he pounded his fist on the cab’s trunk, screaming, “You m--- f----!!” I wondered if the cabbie had run over his foot. (The same thing almost happened to me a block from there just a week or two ago.)

The cabbie stopped in the middle of the road to help the guy. Meanwhile, a potential fare jumped in on the other side of the stopped cab as if nothing had happened. I kept walking.

This afternoon I was walking home on 8th Street when a man in front of me accidentally dropped his burning cigarette on the sidewalk. I watched as the burning butt rolled, with him chasing after it. I was thinking, "No, please don’t put that back in your mouth. For God's sake, PLEASE." He picked it up and – sure enough – stuck it right between his lips.

Come on, people. That is disgusting. New York City sidewalks are the filthiest in the world. I still dodge the spit on the sidewalks. And I still turn my head and hold my breath when I come across the usual Saturday morning pile of vomit. How anyone could eat off of these sidewalks or smoke off of them is beyond all comprehension. And this was a normal middle-class kind of guy.

Sure, cigarettes are seven bucks a pack but that's no excuse.

Aaaaaaagh!