I normally don't look at the sidewalk very often when I'm out walking around. There's too many other things to see, like boobs, or puppies. All this changed last night, though, as I was walking around Union Square, listening to Styx and basically enjoying my evening, when I caught a guy in my peripheral vision that appeared to be saying something to me. I wrote him off as a crazy bum (an important skill to master here) and continued my Styx Journey (which is probably much better than a Journey Journey). About half a block later, this same guy stopped me in my tracks by jumping right in front of me. I figured that he had now earned my attention, be him crazy bum or not, so I turned off my iPod shuffle (which I was 100% sure was about to be stolen) and asked him "what's up?"
"You have to respect me (not true)."
"You have to watch where you goin' man."
"You hafta watch where you goin'."
"I said you hafta watch where you goin'."
"Okay, I'm sorry."
"You stepped on two glass vials back there that belonged to me."
I walked away after that.
Okay, so my bad; he wasn't a crazy bum. He was a crazy CRACKHEAD, and of course, being a crackhead, he figures that it is not his fault that he stored his crack in a place where it could be easily tread upon (the sidewalk), but rather my fault for not seeing his poorly-placed vials of illegal narcotics while walking, quite legally I might add, in the designated walking area (the sidewalk). Fuck that guy. After he left I wanted to find a cop and get this asshole arrested but then I remembered two things:
A. Putting that guy in jail wouldn't help a goddamn thing.
B. Styx has been on pause this whole time!
Today I was walking home and I saw a half-finished cigarette laying there on the sidewalk, still smoking. I looked around for the smoker, figuring they would probably be close by given the recently-dropped-ness of the cigarette, but there was no one else around at all; no doors closing, no cars just starting, nothing. Creepy. Maybe I have a tail (not like a cute little boney thing covered in fur, but like a spy following me around; actually, I do have a cute boney thing, but it's not covered in fur [or little, motherfucker]).
After the crackhead incident last night I was on my way to Pianos and I saw a guy across the street salting the sidewalk. Now, it's been cold here for a while, but we have only gotten about .00000003 inches of snow this whole winter, and we hadn't had a flake in days, so I had no idea what this guy was up to. I stopped thinking about it, went home, ate half a sandwich, went to bed, woke up, did things, and then it was snowing! That guy knew the whole time!
Good job sir. You probably had the driest sidewalk this side of the Mississip.
You're probably saying to yourself "why the amazement, Timmy? The dude probably just checked the weather forecast or something." I'll have you know that I don't believe in weather forecasts because I don't believe that there are certain individuals out there with magic weather-predicting abilities. Or at least I didn't used to. Now I'm not so sure.