In my way

Damn these people that are clogging up the streets of Manhattan. Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, busily pushing the keypad of their PDA, oblivious to the world around them. Obviously they don't understand the concept of sideWALK. Well, watch out! I have removed the little fog horn of my bicycle and am looking for an excuse to use it.

And while we are discussing manners --ok, my anger, I am tired of moving to a different subway car to avoid the disgusting smells of your greasy food. When I see you holding that container so close to your face --shoveling it in, it is only a matter of time before I accidentally shove it up your nose.

And while I am discussing subway - jesus, are you men blind? A pregnant woman gets on at 14th Street and is forced to stand, because all the seats are filled with men and boys. The one seat occupied by a woman is quickly vacated (she must be seventy) so the pregnant woman can sit. Please guys, wake up.

And while we are discussing blindness, last week there was a semi-filled subway car with one obviously blind old black man. We approached Spring Street and a rather poor acting druggie boards and begins,"Ladies and Gentleman, may I have your attention? I am sorry to bother you but I ...."

Not one person in the car reached into their pocket...except for the old blind man with his old blind cane.

And another thing, to you...the crack head that has been roaming the streets of the Village for the last 15 years. All right, you are blond and white, and I'm sorry for that, because people never suspect you. I'm also sorry that crack doesn't kill. It's a squanch that I gave you money the first time after that rather convincing "lock-out story", but to see you hovered over my jacket, rifling through the pockets yesterday...removing the change, while I was trying on a sports coat nearly caused me to come loose. TWICE! You've made a monkey out me. You asshole, why do you think I was at a thrift store --I don't have job and I do have an interview.

So watch out! You know I'll see you again and when I do--I will take my lonely lighter (you stole my cigarettes) and heat up a quarter until it is red --then drop it in your hand.

And speaking of hand - All you tourists hanging out on Canal and Broadway, slipping into basements, escorted by those nasty Ho's to buy your Louis Vitton knock off Hand bags. I'm watching you! Its only a matter of time before I put on my fake badge and confiscate your goods. I will do it.

OK, I finished.

Oh wait, speaking of bags. To those immigrants choosing to carry their belongings in fancy shopping bags: Get someone who speaks English to tell you where the bag is from. Nothing Nastier than an fat old lady carrying a Victoria's Secret Bag. Its to much for my head.

The beginning of ....

The problem with starting a book is that one never knows where to begin. It occurred to me after another panel of "specialists" in their respective fields - that, perhaps I should write a little. Most of the issues covered, I could have explained with fewer words, just a red face with little stutter here and there.

As I exited, walking past Bobst, it became clear. A starting point.
Thank god - I'm just holding way too much in. Perhaps in some way I might help another.

It started the day JFK, Jr. went missing in the Atlantic Ocean. I admit it, I lusted after him like every other gay man and straight woman. He was a dream...one that never materialized other then a nod and smile as I took his order.

The date was Friday, July 17th, 1999. As I boarded my plane to Nassau, there was mention that his flight was missing. As I rushed through the airport - to get downtown to pick up my connecting ticket- I had only one thought...I'm going to miss my flight to Havana. I did. The pains of out running Big Brother.

I arrived at an overpriced hotel late. The agency, if you could call it that, was typically what on would expect. Over-sized women, strange smells and looks of, "Sorry I can't help you" Lorraine has stepped out for lunch." I was one of many waiting for Lorraine. She returned way past the time of my departure. Disgruntled with my fellow patrons, we left defeated, agreeable to "first flight out" in the morning.

I went to bed, slept poorly and in my own misery, forgot about my friend, John, John.

Six in the morning I bolted for my a Aero Caribe flight, and landed in Havana at an early hour.
to my surprise, my buddy, Ove, from Norway was waiting for me with a nice cup of Cuban coffee. Little did I know that within a few hours my life was about to change.

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