It was a beautiful day. No thunderstorms, as had been predicted. I began the pleasant walk from 56th to 80th, knowing that I would soon find a Starbucks where I could use the restroom. It only took about two blocks.
New Yorkers talk to each other. There was a guy in front of me in the restroom line who looked like he was one sandwich short of a picnic, if you know what I mean. He looked at the stars tattooed on my arm. He said, "Do you have any stars of David?" I said no, just regular stars. He asked if I had any yellow stars. No.
He started mumbling different phrases with the word "star" in them. "Shooting star. Everybody wants to be a star..." Thankfully, it was his turn. When he came out, his parting words were, "When you wish upon a star..." He may have been a little eccentric, but at least he made standing in line more interesting.
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