Blogging Like I've Never Blogged Before

Monday, July 26, 2004


Sunday, according to the weathermen, was supposed to be a crappy, rainy day. It'll be a good idea to rent a movie, curl up with a good book, maybe sleep late, perhaps clean your apartment, sit around and smoke a bowl, they said. Do anything, but don't do it outside, they said. Lies! It turned out to be a beautiful September day in the middle of July.

So I was sitting around wondering what movie to watch, maybe a couple of Simpsons episodes from Season 4. I looked outside and saw a blue sky. Damn you, Sam Champion! You lied to me. My brain has already been predetermined to sit around and do nothing.

But thanks to a rare burst of inspiration to do something (assisted by my roommate and her boyfriend waking up at 4 PM, then deciding to make cooing noises at each other, which led me to believe they wanted to do it), I decided to leave my apartment and head for an unknown destination.

I ended up at the Brooklyn Bridge. On the Brooklyn Bridge. Almost every nice day that I waste, then feel guilty about that night or the next day, I always think, "I shoulda walked over the Brooklyn Bridge!" and I slap my forehead like I'm in a V8 commercial. Yesterday, I finally did it and did not slap my head. So that was nice.





It was a fun little experience. I've always had a theory about New York. And that is the happiest people in New York are the ones that are ice skating at Rockefeller Center around Christmas time. If you ever go there, look down and try to find someone who is upset. They are difficult to locate. I noticed yesterday that people walking on the Bridge are also incredibly happy. But only the people walking. The drivers are a different story.

So I sat there and watched people walking, taking pictures, smiling, pointing, reading plaques, speaking in different languages. At one point I was sitting on this bench and a little girl and her mother sat next to me. The girl was about three and the mother was probably in her late 20's. They spoke Spanish and the little girl kept saying Mommy, which I guess was actually Mami. After they sat there for a while, the girl looked at me and started smiling. She was eating some sour candy from a little white paper bag. That paper bag then became instrumental in a game of peek-a-boo she decided to play with me.

She was adorable and I contemplated kidnapping her. She kept giggling a cute little giggle. I looked up at the mother and noticed she had no interest in playing peek-a-boo with me. She was occasionally covering her eyes though, because she was crying. Weird. She was just sitting there sobbing and wiping away tears. I almost felt obligated to say something to her, maybe ask her if she was OK. We were sharing a bench and I was on the verge of kidnapping her kid, so I felt a bond. She single-handedly destroyed my "Everyone is happy on the Brooklyn Bridge" theory.

She sat there and cried, her daughter giggled behind her bag of candy, I continued to play this riveting game of peeking and booing. I was trying to imagine what she was crying about. I noticed she wasn't wearing a wedding ring, so maybe she was frustrated at being a single mom. Was trying to pick me up? I've already demonstrated some amazing parenting skills.

Soon, another little girl walked up to her, said something and pointed and away they went. What bugged me was that the little girl, my new best friend, didn't say "Adios" or even wave to me as she left. Some kids are so rude.

The best part about the bridge is you can spit on all of the pissed off people stuck in traffic.



Speaking of kids, I was also at Union Square where these drummers were drumming, and there was this little kid there, who apparently has no parents.



He was hilarious, running up to all of the drummers and banging on their drums. He also became the money giver. Everyone would give him a dollar and he'd run up and throw it in their bin. At one point, though, he started running away all by himself. He then came back without the assistance of anyone, which made me believe he had no parents, or he is actually a 35-year-old man with a learning disability.

Here he is dancing circles around this little white kid who lacked rhythm.



Then the cops came and busted it up. Don't they have anything better to do!!!?!???!?! There's a lady crying on the Brooklyn Bridge. Go help her!

All material © Mike Toole; 2003 - 2006