Being the pagan
scum that I am, I chose to skip the Easter
sunday mass and wandered down 71st Street torwards Central Park. Skirting around the Lennon
memorial at the top of Strawberry Fields
, I joined the trickle of people moving down the trail torwards the water.
-the 6 coffees I drank at Cafe Luxembourg
were being rather insistant on leaving my bladder.
No problem, I'm inna park, I'll find a thirsty tree.
No such luck. There were people everywhere
..playing with overpriced little dogs
(purchased for the sole purpose of proving to strangers that no, they are not rapists
, because we all know rapists and murderers are not allowed to own a $750 imported puppy
, or playing with overpriced children (purchased for the same reason)- you get the idea.
need to pee need to pee need to pee
So I hop-shuffle torwards the fountain area to the right of the pond..hundreds of fellow squishy humans
milling about. Curious lack of signs..I follow the sound of a echoey saxophone down the stairs torwards the fountain..and what to I see?
I joyfully prance
inside, my zipper magically sliding down, sweet release.
Hey, this is a pretty nice restroom for a park.
And it was. Spacious. Well lit. No lurking perverts
. Even smelled nice.
Satisfied, I ambled out, complete with the knowledge that the next time I was near Central Park
, I knew I had a place to pee
Knowing is half the battle