Independence Day
So I’m walking down 14th street toward union square (from 6th ave) around 11 pm on July 4th. As Carrie and I approach the Taco Bell (one of the only things open on the street) we notice there is a certain gradual build up of human street trash laying and walking around. Right as we’re passing the Taco Bell a couple turns to go in and I yell “No! don’t do it” but given that the gathering of unsavory street people they pay me no mind and walk right in, the need for a gooey/crunchy mash of cholesterol deafening their ears to my plea for sanity.
At that moment, between seeing the path to certain apocalypse populated and hoping that a penchant for cheap tacos leads to immigrant tolerance, I notice the winner of the night. He’s clad in a Misfits muscle shirt and gray pants, both bought well before whatever this guy is addicted ravaged his body. His shoes are missing, but he has a face that is very tanned and moderately bruised, and a cell phone, which he is currently using. What happened next was one of those moments that makes one wish invisible cloaks and speaker phones were readily available, b/c all I wanted to do was listen to both ends of this guys conversation. Observe him like a mangled badger that’s had one too many mushrooms and finds himself lost in a bear’s cave 2 minutes before hibernation’s end.
“Now, wait… let me explain something to you”
He said.
That lasting image is how I will remember my generation. Shit out of luck, not giving a fuck, but still confident that we have any ability to make a cogent point or are entitled to someone else to listen to it.
You’ve got to love America.
