If it wasn’t for the last minute, I’d never get anything done. I’d been planning to go to Boston this weekend but obviously it’s not the time to do anything suspicious out there. So I figured it was as good a time as any to try the Catskills again and maybe actually make it to my first Kirkbride asylum. I thought I had some solid plans, but once I was already on the bus to New York, everything fell apart again and I was left scrambling. I sent out a bunch of messages to any explorers I knew in the area, and as usual got blocked by most of them before anything happened, but I wasn’t about to give up until everyone had either blocked me or given me a chance, seeing as I was past the point of no return and the usual strategy of throwing away the tickets and hemorrhaging money on repeated non-trips wasn’t even an option. The bus pulled into Port Authority (the reeking asshole of New York City!) at 6am, and I still had no idea what was next.
So I did the one thing that seemed to make sense at the time, and wandered toward Brooklyn.
Just a little mobile lobbyist – this is referring to Bloomberg’s soda laws, which limit sales of sugary drinks in New York to 16 ounces. Obviously, Pepsi doesn’t approve.
I think this is the work of Christo Jean-Claude?
Getting closer to Brooklyn…
I couldn’t resist. One of the shitty flavors was onion garlic. It was shitty. Mind you, this is a pudding shop. Garlic pudding is shitty. Truth in marketing works.
The street markets of Chinatown were more my flavor.
Durian. It smells like athlete’s foot, and tastes an awful lot like onion garlic rice pudding. Oof!
Finding the Brooklyn Bridge was actually a lot harder than one might expect. The road leading to it isn’t where the sidewalk is, for one thing. I wandered around some more, and next thing I knew I was in Zuccotti Park. I’m still amazed what this place looks like in person. It’s not at all what I thought it would have been; so much smaller, and barely even a park, just a slab of concrete with some awkward benches.