Lasciati ogni speranza. No joy in Mudville. Dover beach.
(Bright side: it's a beach.)
Beautiful day, though. Odd two or three days.
Sunday, as I was heading in to the pontifical, there was a fellow at the bag inspection line with his bag on the table, standing there, fiddling with his phone. I waited a few moments, then asked him to move the bag. He moved it around on the table a bit, and shot me an ironic look. Then slowly removed it. He said something, I can't recall. "Friend, I want nothing to do with you," I replied. Then he said something ending in "God bless." "Be careful with that," I said, all the while showing the innards of my bag to the guard. (In NYC, this happens a half dozen times every day.) He took some umbrage at my not accepting the blessing, and said loudly "Do you know who I am?" "I couldn't care less," I replied. "I'm a CIA agent, and you're harassing me!" he shouted. At which point, the guard had finished his quick look, and I left for the nave.
Oddly, he didn't have the appearance of a crackpot. Careful appearance, conservative haircut, new backpack only slightly full. More like a law enforcement type than the type the laws are enforced upon.
Then, last night, at the cafe, a fellow walked in with an enormous, very hairy dog. I had seen a half-dozen animals there that evening--taking your pets into a no-pets area is apparently a NYC power move. But the shaggy mammoth was a bridge too far. I complained to the guard, who told me to go to customer service, who in turn told me to go to the guard. Eventually, the guard was paged, but he demurred, and an assistant manager type was dispatched, who oddly ignored both the dog and me, and walked to the back of the cafe. I went back to the customer service stand, and eventually the other fellow walked back around.
In the meantime, as I was standing right near the entrance, an older gentleman behind me gave me a sharp poke in the kidneys with what seemed to be three or four fingers, before walking past. I pointed out with some firmness that this would be considered civil assault, and asked him not to do it again. Oddly, a minute or so later, he walked back out of the cafe through the same entrance, and I repeated my injunction. I told the management type that I'd simply move to another part of the cafe, and headed to the back, finding a place just in front of a fellow shouting a conversation into a cell phone and a completely insane old woman in a facemask making rhythmic noises, hunched over her food.
Was sitting on a parkbench later when a peculiar fellow walked up and stood there looking at me, at which point I decamped to another area.
I've lived here for many, many years, and I remain convinced that the preponderance of the population is composed of sub-human creatures who are trying to kill you. But there are some worthwhile souls in the minority.