New York #$%!ing City

Andy and I were walking Henry and he tells me the following story--when he first arrived in New York 3 years ago, he left his wallet on the bus. Not knowing what else to do he waited for the bus to come back around on its route so he could get back on and see if his wallet was still there. Naturally his wallet was still there, or this wouldn't be a story.

Sunday I went to brunch and left my bike chained up outside, only I managed not to tie it around the post. "Oops!" I exclaimed. "Well, you can tell I'm a natural blonde!" A line I HATE but I didn't know what else to say and I'm not going to criticize myself for doing that.

Tuesday morning out by my bike this delivery man is unlatching his bike for the day, "This your bike?" He asks. I'm late. No coffee. Umm. "Yes?"

"Oh, look, look!"

He's grabbing my chain and moving it around, I'm thinking to indicate he'd WASHED THE CHAIN. As if anyone...whatever. You're catching on to the theme here. The thing sat unfettered OVERNIGHT. My God!

I pushed on from there to teach yoga in the West Village, run some errands, then back East for a meeting. Lo and behold, at the meeting I grab for my wallet. Gone. I ride back over to the West side, check everything out. Go home. Message! The lovely lovely Michelle is calling to tell me she's found my wallet, no money. Unfortunately, one of the errands had been to get a big pile of cash, but still.

And that's New York Fuckin' City in 2007.