Down on skid ro-ooooow
This morning started off with a dead body.
Back up.
Yesterday was gorgeous. Upper fifties, sixty degrees when I got out of work and sunnnnnny. A couple friends met me after work and we dodged the St Patty’s parade (not an easy feat) and headed into Central Park because the one nice side effect of working on the Upper East side is that the Park is a block away.
We skipped around the park, careful to avoid children (one of the ponds was drained for spring cleaning and there was a group of tiny blonde little girls in Catholic school outfits wandering around in the empty lake. IT LOOKED LIKE CHILDREN OF THE CORN) and the Renessance festival reject playing minstral music near the Alice in Wonderland sculptures. Although after a few minutes, we realized that he was actually pretty good.
Eventually we met up with another friend and decided that since it was St. Patrick’s Day, we were going to get Mexican food. Who wants to go on a pub crawl when you can sit in a dark Mexican bar/restaraunt with a gazillion bajillion Christmas lights on the ceiling and drink margahtritas and get terrible waiter service? TEQUILA ALWAYS WINS.
At some point we came up with a business idea called the Porta-Party. Don’t ask about it yet, but you’ll know what it is once we get internet-famous.
Drunk-at-8pm-me thought it would be a great idea to go to the Boyfriend’s house and pick up the art supplies I got delivered there because even though I was falling asleep at Margahrita dinner, I’d totally, definitely stay awake enough to walk home after getting to his house.
Nope.
We laid down for just a minute to cuddle and because I kind of fell onto the bed and kind of took my shoes off and kind of also pulled the covers over me and so we kind of fell asleep cuddling. I woke up and it was 12:40am. So I slept over.
So then I get up at 7:30 and walk to my house to shower and get ready for work. I was dragging my way down Broadway, hair sticking up all bed-head like, yawning, squinting into the sun and thanking the weather lords that it was going to be 70 degrees today, and at Myrtle there is a man in the middle of the Intersection of Crazy (poorly designed intersection + crazy awful drivers + New York + kind of the ghetto) with one crutch lying next to him and a white sheet laid over him and his round midsection.
I don’t know what happened, but there was no car stopped, There were police everywhere talking to one another and standing around the body, but not too close, maybe four feet away in a semi-circle. The sidewalk was clogged with people standing around and looking at the deceased as well. I suppose everyone was waiting for the correnor.
Did he get hit by a car? Was he walking home from the hospital? Did he get shot?
I have no idea. And this is the first time I’ve seen a dead body.
Rest in peace, Mister. You picked a beautiful day to die.
