As you certainly must recall, we ended the first part of our date at the edge of the Christopher Street entrance to Hudson River Park. I'd completely missed that street in true Mr. Magoo fashion, wandered around a bit in blithe ignorance of my blunder, and then, realizing the error of my ways, made a beautiful about face and headed up Hudson Street. I coveted a cookie jar shaped like a pineapple and dessert plates with a pineapple motif.
It's all coming back to you now, isn't it? Yes, it was oh so long ago that I wrote about this ... yesterday.
So here we are. At one of the Hudson River Park piers. Look:
So nice and clean. Verdant. Inviting. Brisk concrete along one side of the pier and a beautiful boardwalk on the other side. Why I didn't take a photo of the boardwalk side is beyond me. I suppose this means I'll have to go back some other time ... just to get the photo of course. I mean, not to enjoy this lovely strip of open air and water and ... boys ... without ... shirts ...
All right, so he's not the best specimen. I just liked his purple shorts. The pier was dotted with all manner of youngish men lounging on the grass and on benches, almost all of them shirtless. I saw only a handful of girls, all of them shirtful. At first I thought I saw some shirtless girls, but they turned out to be boys with long hair and particularly smooth, young backs. I wanted to take pictures of quite a few of these people; alas, their poses were not for me but for each other. I just strolled along the periphery of the pier, sucking seductively on my strawberry Froz-Fruit.
I stopped to enjoy a sailboat:
It wasn't until I saw this, to my left, that I felt like I was really on a pier:
These stumps or whatever they're called (O, forgive me for being a landlubber!) reminded me of pedestrian traffic on any street corner in Manhattan. Except they smelled better and were less aggressive.
To my right was a reminder that I was still in the city:
Some people thought they were safe in their own backyards:
These two, along with many other people, were on one of the lawns to my right. I wanted to steal this woman's baby and prop it on one of the stumps, just for fun, but I refrained. I also wanted to kick the woman in the head to let her know what an utter cretin she was, but I refrained from doing that as well.
I had no desire to sprawl on any of the lawns or pose with the boys, so I ended my stroll along the river, and headed toward West Street, which separates the park from the rest of Manhattan. Just before crossing West Street onto West 13th Street, I came across this pretty pink patch, which was apparently the place to, well, be(e). Everyone here was beehaven:
I was curiously drawn to this fantastic set-up at Big Fun Toys (at Hudson and Horatio):
Yes, that's a pretend can of foie gras you see there. Please. This is a cosmopolitan city. The children whose parents can afford this fabulous faux stove don't even know what "mac 'n' cheez" is!
I went into the store and chatted a bit with the girl (I guessed she was about my age or a little older, so of course she's just a girl) behind the counter. We laughed over my tales of not even being able to bake a cake with a Suzy Homemaker or E-Z Bake oven. I considered buying sea monkeys, but discounted the idea when I remembered I only had $8.00 and change in my wallet and also realized that Taxi and Shana would be jealous of their new brothers and sisters.
So I walked eastward, toward Chelsea. Let the camera rest. Daydreamed about my lunch. Wondered if anyone stole the sleeping baby yet. Thought about how good Froz-Fruit is and how I should get it more often, but how I really wanted cherry but all the guy had was strawberry but oh well, I'm flexible, I can handle the adversity.
These pineapples interrupted my stream of consciousness:
I marvelled at how cute pineapples are. Daydreamed about the pineapple cookie jar and the dessert plates.
I didn't bring the camera out again until I saw these, at 264 West 22nd Street:
Perhaps they should have used sunscreen, I thought. The man looked to be in a strange state of cross-eyed confusion.
As I was snapping away, a slender brunette beauty dressed in black pants and a black tank top and a very flattering hat passed by and asked me about my camera. She smiled at me very broadly and, I daresay, invitingly. I considered asking her to join me for a cup of coffee, but I didn't.
Instead, I was charmed by this fellow and his dog, who were just steps away from where I stood on the sidewalk, watching the girl retreat:
He jokingly asked me to take his and his dog's photo. I quickly found out that the man's name is William, and he's from Germany. His dog, Brillo, is a three-year-old female Pit Bull. We discussed Brillo's sweet disposition and the idiocy of people who train Pit Bulls to be mean. I don't remember much of what else we talked about (I did not ask William about the scrape on his knee), but I do know that I laughed quite a bit and played with Brillo even more. (You can see more photos of Brillo in the "Dogabout" album, here.)
I made my way toward home, debated whether to pick up some Soy Delicious at Whole Foods, decided against it, and entered my apartment. About an hour and a quarter later, I was glad I hadn't bought anything perishable, because the power went off.
So I took a nap.
And thus concluded my date with Jodi! I promised myself I would call myself, but so far I haven't heard a word. That's probably because I refused to kiss myself goodbye. (I probably would have had better luck with the pretty girl in the hat!)
Oh well. It's my loss, I guess.fresh-baked at 04:04 PM