Just a few seconds ago, as I was having a smoke and staring out my window I saw a little foil balloon fly by. It was one of those tacky helium filled greeting card balloons you get when you just can’t summon up an original way to say, “I’m sorry you’re getting married to that hose beast, here’s to a short life.”
It flew right by my window, then it hit Rector Street and took a left. It zoomed down to Greenwich and headed south, past a building and out of my field of view. It definitely looked like it was in a rush.
I tried to have an American Beauty moment where I’d say something poignant to myself about trash from the street ascending to the heavens… but all I could think of was how awesome it would be if a pigeon flew right the fuck into it and got all tangled up in the tinsely carcass and then careened violently into a window and landed on an executive’s desk.
I mean, screw coffee, how would that be for a wake up call?