Yesterday I was walking down E. Houston, toward the Second Ave Subway station. As I’m walking, I hear police sirens behind me, but that might as well had been a bird chirp, in New York. Nothing to turn around for. Background music.

But then, I hear the police speaking…well, really yelling, from his megaphone, telling a taxi driver how much of an asshole he is for double parking in the middle of one of the busiest streets in the city. I mean, this cop was really going in. He was literally cussing this cabbie out, for all the Lower East Side to hear.

It was amazing. Cabbies deserve it, but don’t get it often enough. Suckers, think that yellow paint is like a forcefield, or something.

Where else can you go where a cop will cuss a person out over a loud speaker?

But the crazy part was, as I turned back around, to continued on my way to the train, I walk past two crackheads, a man and a woman, both of whom are barely dressed, and in full coke stroke, shakes and all.

They look at me.

I look at them.

“I swear, I gotta get outta this place,” the man says, scratching himself. “Goddamn city is nuts, aint it?” says the woman while shaking her head.

(Blank stare)

“Yep. It’s crazy. That’s New York for ya,” I say with a sort of, half smile.

This is one block.

The only thing that would’ve topped all this off , is if the crackheads ran and jumped in the cab.

I wouldn’t have been surprised. That’s New York for ya, indeed.