Autumn in New York

The trees in Union and Madison Square Parks were a nice mix of colors today and the light and shadow hit them just right in each part of the day. But the goddam Union Square wi-fi has been down for days; no indication anywhere of who to alert and it's pretty clear no one makes a habit of checking it.

Fortunately, Madison Square has its wi-fi blazin'. Whether under a tree or at a table near Shake Shack (big-deal restaurateur Danny Meyer's low-end wonder hut), the signal is fast and strong. Unfortunately, yesterday it rained like god was tryin' ta off the unicorns, so park-based wi-fi, no matter how blazin', was no-go.

But who say de lord don't provide? The two open signals in the Soho Starbucks are stronger than ever; the once-feeble SD now massively outshining the Lafayette2 connection that used to be available there.

And speaking of Starbucks, in yesterdays paean to samples, I didn't even mention the hefty chunks of egg-laden breakfast sandwiches they give out. Starbucks shoves so much warm breakfast goodness down your gullet, it's kinda like your mother in corporate franchise drag.

And speaking of corporate franchises, back to autumn in the city. As darkness overtook us, Union Square was filled with couples. It was like a misplaced day in spring. "Urban" couples, nerdy couples, hot couples, poor couples, older and younger couples, entwined, smiling, sharing thoughts -- it were beautiful.

Empire State Building is lit a deep, devilish red.

Party in the Brooklyn Industries Store on Lafayette St.

Ooh! And I didn't tell you what samples I had today --
organic Fuji apples, orange and grapefruit slices, freshly made garlic bread, a berry smoothie, herb stuffing with sausage and spinach, sweet chili tofu, corn pudding and Chinese-style potstickers.

I almost didn't go back for seconds on the potstickers 'cause the girl behind the Trader Joe's sample counter was a party I went to this summer where there was this very lovely woman who just brought delight to my heart every time she swept by. Of course, I told her this and she liked the flattery very much. (Experienced readers of this blog know I've gotten into trouble for my un-ironic effusiveness in the presence of compelling women.) Unfortunately, others who heard the well-intentioned flatter mocked me for it and the object of my admiration said, 'Oh, he just likes to say nice things."

Well, this kinda pissed me off. I do not simply like to say nice things. The very notion undermines the value of my compliments. So, I said something like, "I do not simply like to be complimentary. I say nice things when it's an honest reflection of how I feel. I'm perfectly capable of being nasty. If I felt that way I could easily call you a stupid cunt." (Or something like that.)

Well, the next day I heard from a fried that the Freddy's Bar crew -- the gang who'd thrown the party (including the woman at the sample counter today) -- were basically in the streets of the city, marching with torches (my friend's description) to get me as if I were the monster in a Frankenstein movie.

"What did I do?" I asked him.

"You called some girl a cunt."

"What?!!! I did not!"

It took me a while to even remember the scenario I described above. But when I did, I told my friend that I had done nothing of the sort. I had demonstrated to the woman in question that my compliments were real; that if I felt other than positively, I'd say it or shut up.

Well, my friend pointed out that even saying the word cunt in the presence of drunk, politically correct, Prospect Heights/Park Slope girls was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. The repercussions are still being felt. (I almost didn't get a second potsticker!)

For a previous account of my problems with non-ironic admiration, see this earlier post.

I got a note from my friend Michelle after she read the earlier post, which said, "andrew, it's not your fault honey that girls can't handle your sincerity. sadly, we're simply not used to it anymore! :) xo, mf" (Keep her assessment in mind when you do your judging of me out there in Blogland.)

For a previous account of my problems with the word cunt, see this earlier post.

That's it for now. See you tomorrow.

Or something . . .