THE PLACE: 41st Street between Madison and Park THE PLAYER: A burly, buzz-cut young guy in a loud print shirt, talking intently into a cellphone earpiece
BUZZ-CUT GUY: "It was real. And it was fun. But it wasn't real fun."
THE PLACE: Battery Park City THE TIME: Mid-afternoon on a grey November day THE PLAYER: A middle-aged man with oversized white sunglasses and pink hair, pushing an empty baby stroller.
MAN: "I don't think you can start with parentheses. Don't do weird things."
THE PLACE: an eastbound LIRR train. THE PLAYERS: two early-twentysomething dudes in the seat in front of me.
DUDE #1: That's why you read Pitchfork and live your life ironically. DUDE #2: I don't do anything ironically. DUDE #1: Oh really? Then why are you wearing those shorts?
The time: 9:20 on a balmy summer evening
The place: The Prospect Park Bandshell
The players: a hefty thirtyish guy and his apparent girlfriend
Hefty guy: I have to make sure Facebook can't access my photos on my phone
Apparent girlfriend: Why?
Hefty guy: Because I don't want my dick-pics to go up there by accident.