Working downtown for the last two-plus years has been quite interesting. Just five minutes ago, a man in a top hat and long coat strolled by as I enjoyed my coffee. Most everyone else is in a short-sleeve and shorts. Then there are the “shirtless boxer” sightings: a big-chested man who walks around topless and flexes for people. He even has a Facebook group dedicated to him. I snapped a picture once. Of course, downtown has the usual homeless characters, mostly beneign folks. A few are quite entertaining. A few are quite scary. Just down the street from my office is the Church of Steel, a tattoo and body piercing joint. Pastor Pain and the Deacons of Destruction hang outside on the sidewalk.
I enjoy walking to Starbucks, especially the one with a loft on 5th Avenue. They know I want a tall coffee, no room for cream. Nine out of ten times I’ll get my favorite table by the window.
There are certainly things I won’t miss about working downtown, the baked-in urine smell on 7th Avenue being one of them.
As Lyle Lovett once said, “Adios to Alvaro.”