The Library

I am a loyal patron (great, this intro makes me sounds like an old man) of the Mid-Manhattan branch of NYC's library system, even though they suck at alphabetizing and actually having books that are in the system and all those things a library is supposed to do. My loyalty is pretty much solely based off the fact that they are open latest out of all the branches, and that I know how to get there. It's pretty hard to miss; it's right across the street from Bryant Park (no, not the library with the lions -- this one is ACROSS the street. Note the prepositional phrase. Across. The. Street. Not "next to." Here, I'll show you a map:

See? Not the lion one.)

Anyway, the point is not that I'm a huge nerd. The point is that every time I leave the library, without fail, something amazing and only New Yorkish happens right on the corner of 5th and 42nd. One time I saw a guy with only one eyeball trip over a bump in the sidewalk, and then LOOK AROUND (which must have been difficult, considering) to see if anyone had noticed. Um yeah, dude, I think that tripping in public is your biggest awkwardness right now. Seen a mirror, lately? No? Unsurprising*.  I kid you not, this really happened. I couldn't make that up if I tried.

So today when I was leaving the library, a new horrific event was taking place on the same mentioned corner. I noticed that one of those rickshaw carriages that the snarky drivers try to lure unsuspecting tourist couples into was kind of sitting crooked on the sidewalk, and that everyone was giving it a wide berth. Being a nosy person, I scooted right over to check it out. The driver was sitting in the rickshaw cart, which had one back wheel completely broken in half. A crushed bike was lying half under the wheel. I watched as the rickshaw driver raged on (in a very non-English language) at a man standing next to the wreck who must have been the bike's owner, and who kept trying to get close enough to look at the damage. Every time he took a step toward the mess of bike/cart, the driver would start screaming. After a second, the poor big hippie bicycler man stopped, stood frustratedly, and started crying. In the middle of the sidewalk.

Good god I love this city today.

*Caveat: I mean no offense against one-eyed or altogether eyeless people. I'm sure they're just like normal dudes and ladies, just a little sight impaired. But seriously? I think a patch is a better look, don't you?