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.”
Now seeing bikers with Brooklyn jackets wearing toe shoes would be a REAL discovery.