Where I Work

I work at an exciting place. The homeless just love our building. We had a couple camp right outside the front door obstructing our access for several weeks. And then there’s another homeless guy who somehow manages to get inside every now and again. You can always tell he’s in the building by the overpowering stench that assaults your senses the moment you step through the door. It’s like having your head forcibly held down into a basketful of sweaty socks and putrefying meat. You turn the corner and there he is, standing by the elevator with a winter coat on (despite the mild temperature) doing nothing. He has kind of a defeated air about him. Maybe it’s because of the fetid air about him.

Last Friday night, thieves broke into the hair salon on the third floor by removing the air conditioner and squirming through the hole. They robbed that place and the next floor up as well, probably because those poor saps on the fourth floor forgot to lock their back stairway door. And yesterday we had a parked car burst into flames right out in front. Fire engines and black smoke everywhere! John H. took some pictures and hopefully we’ll get a post from him about it soon.

When the Yankees come to town, they stay at the Ritz Carlton across the street. A sure sign the Yankees are here is the small crowd of autograph seekers that forms up at 9:00 in the morning. Last time, Johnny Damon and his wife shopped at Burberry’s, which is just next door to us. As they crossed the street with Johnny’s arms laden with bagfuls of his wife’s goodies, an autograph hound asked Johnny for his signature. Johnny showed him the bags and moved along. Of course. Then, when the Yankees bus arrived to take them to the ballpark, the hotel staff roped off the section the Yankees have to walk through to get to the bus. A lot of the players are good sports and do a lot of signing — balls and bats have to be a pain to write on. I saw Robinson Cano wear his hand out last time.

How about where you work? Much going on there?