sex in the city!!!

I had sex in the city last night. It was at the corner of 57th and 63rd. Two blocks down from that infamous corner where Man landed on the moon. Just three train stops from the neighboorhood where Einstein discovered the HoHo and Yoo Hoo!

I don't usually kiss and tell, but it was just so magical, that I need to share.

We met under the streetlight. The arrangement was that I would wear one of those Sherlock Holmes hats, with the bills on both ends, and she would be wearing a tshirt that said "Kiss me I'm Irish." I almost didn't recognize her, as she was actually wearing a "Honk if You Like Chicks" tshirt (she said it was the only one she could find), and I could only find a John Deere baseball cap, which stuck out like a sore thumb in Midtown like that, but I didn't care. All I cared about was her.

While there were rules against public indecency, there was nothing on the books about it you were being polite. So with many a "Excuse Me" and "Sorry, Pardon Us" we twisted and turned our ways from standing up to lying down.

To say the curb was less than comfortable would be like saying the guy on the front stoop giving me pointers was less than helpful. It wasn't my first time, but that certainly wouldn't mean it wasn't my last. She moved like she did this on every street corner, and perhaps she has. I really don't frequent street corners much. I am not that kind of guy. I stick to the middle of the blocks, normally, but this night I couldn't resist.

Not too many other people could resist either. A few were holding up signs, with various numbers on them. Others applauded at most inopportune times. But all in all, they were a polite bunch. They kept their opinions to themselves for the most part, and most refrained from speaking throughout the performance.

Not that this was a performance. I am not an actor. I am not even trained, in the classical sense. I had been an apprentice, to a coffee barista on the lower west side.

Pouring coffee all day taught me many things, besides the scalding property of hot water. It taught me that sometimes two packs of Sweet and Low make anything in life drinkable. Sometimes you just needed to stir in some Half and Half and your problems would drift away in a nice river of brown liquid.

Last night, when we were basking in the glow of headlights, sitting on the curb enjoying a good smoke, you turned to me and said that was the most fun you had since Nixon died. I turned and saw the look in your eye that was priceless. I don't think I'll ever forget was you looked like, with that guy trying to stare down your shirt and that stray dog trying to run off with your skirt.

Hollywood has it all wrong. The best moments in life are not picture-perfect, with the right make-up and costumes, the best sets and actors. No, the best moments in life are often found at busy intersections with nosey strangers trying to borrow your last condom and homeless ladies trying to make off with your boxers. It's the gritty reality of life. You just can't stage that kind of thing. Trust me, I've tried. It just doesn't work.