Yet another epiphany had....

I guess it's true: the simple things in life are sometimes the best.

Last night, while in very good company, I sat on a rather-uncomfortable bench in a Manhattan park (not Central....Madison Square, I believe is its name, its across the street from my place of business) from about 9:00pm to about 12:30pm, just talking. Aside from the rigid wooden bench----on which I struggled to find a comforting seating position the whole time, mind you, but it wasn't a deal-breaker----it was a great night, both weather-wise and enjoyment-wise. And oddly enough, I've been working at this location for almost five years now and this was my first-ever time sitting in this park, just to socialize. It was a joy.

Now, I'm sure a large debt of this good time is due to my partner in conversation, a lovely and engaging lady friend whom I hadn't seen in over a year. I must admit, speaking with her for nearly four hours flew by like the breeze, and I could've honestly chatted with her for hours more. The only reason we broke it up was that the park manager (I guess that's his title, it sounds legit, no?) came and told us that the park was closing. Otherwise, we could very well still be there now, talking the night away....

But it had me thinking, while taking the PATH train back home, sitting next to a group of transvestites (no shitting you...about five or so, boarding the cart on 14th Street, I think two of them were whispering sweet-nothings about me too while seated across from me....flattering, but still quite "yikes!"). I don't take advantage of the city's many simple wonders enough. Such as sitting in parks, or just walking around with no clear destination, exploring. Granted, if I had a co-pilot as great as the one I had last night who was always down for the cause, I'd do it every night possible. But now, I'm vowing to do such things more. Maybe one of these upcoming weekends I'll recruit some heads and hang out in Central Park all day. Or perhaps I'll risk my own life by ice-skating in Rockefeller Center once the temperature drops some. Those who've seen my left ankle recently know how my last ice-skating adventure turned.....a slashed-up ankle left with a Italy-shaped scar the size of tender strip of bacon. And that shit is as permanent as a black marker. Another lesson learned.