Where’s the Fucking Cocaine?

I’ll never forget that night in early June on a corner just outside the Times Square district in Manhattan. I was sitting in a chair watching the nightlife, swatting an occasional mosquito amidst the skyscrapers. A portly guy in a business suit was yelling at the occasional tourist and being a belligerent drunk.

He spent the next half hour harassing tourists, none of the dozen people in the area thought much of his drunken ranting and raving. Then he amazed us all.

At the top of his lungs he screamed, “WHERE’S THE FUCKING COCAINE?!?!” Then proceeded to walk right into traffic on Sixth Avenue and Kung Fu kicked a taxi going 35 mph right in the headlight. He actually walked off on that foot somehow, still barely noticing his own limp as several of us stared at each other in bewilderment.

But that’s just another Saturday night in the City.