In the East River Ferry restroom, between three girls who appeared about 10-years old:

“Oooh, I just got a text!”

“Oooh, it’s from your boyfriend!”

“I know this girl who texted a photo, but she left the toilet seat up and you could see it in the background!”

“Text FAIL!”

“Nasty text FAIL!”

In Harlem, from a woman yelling into a cell phone:

“I know I didn’t mean to sound like that! Maybe I do need to change my attitude! But sometimes I am loud!”

At the Keith Haring exhibit:

“It’s just ghetto art as high art.”

At Central Park, immediately after I admired the innocence of the children playing nearby:

(Singing a Peaches song) “I’m gonna suck your – !”

Waiting for the L Train, between two men decked out in Brooklyn Devils biker regalia and a backpack-loaded guy and girl exemplifying the Pacific Northwest traveler cliché:

Bikers: “Does this train go to Brooklyn?” (Did I mention the “Brooklyn Devils” T-shirts and patches covering their bodies?)

Hippies: “Yes!”

Bikers: “Hey, are those toes on your shoes?”

Hippies: “Yes! They’re toe shoes!”

Bikers, impressed: “They work all right then?”

Hippies: “Yes! Once you get used to them. See, they get you using your whole foot in a way regular shoes don’t. They’re amazing.”

Bikers: “Yeah, those seem pretty cool.”