A disgruntled librarian packs it up and leaves fabulous New York City behind,
going on random global adventures,
while simultaneously promoting literacy
and spreading the love of the written word.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

retired kicks

i do love new york city life.  looking back, there are two things i've always wanted to do.
1.  as a child, i always wanted to play in an opened fire hydrant.  i think i first saw this on sesame street, a bunch of kids running around through water being sprayed on the street.  i have since become adamantly opposed to this practice once i learned how much water is wasted when this is done (thousands of gallons of water!)  also, they used to do this on the street outside The Paradise, and they would flood the whole street since no one seemed to know how to shut the fire hydrant off, so it would be left on for HOURS.  i eventually got into the habit of calling 311 on them, and one time i even wrote in to Time Out NY after they irresponsibly published directions on how to illegally open a fire hydrant.  i now realize that the suburban alternative of playing in a sprinkler is much more eco-friendly, but sadly not as cool.

2.  i've always wanted to "retire" my sneakers on a phone line.  i find this practice fascinating.   and so, when i moved out of The Paradise to seek adventure in south america (but first a 6 week nomadic adventure between long island and brooklyn), i decided to retire my kangaroos out by the corner in front of the projects.  it seemed appropriate.  but let me tell you something dear blog readers, it is NOT easy to get your kicks up there!  i had to throw them several times, and then of course all the guys hanging outside the bodega had a nice laugh, giving me all sorts of advice on how best to throw my sneakers up in the air.   here's a helpful tip: you need to situate yourself directly under the wire.  then, holding one sneaker in each hand (sneaker laces must be tied together), throw the sneakers underhand with great force so that the laces will hit into the wire and then wrap themselves around it.  it's harder than it looks folks, i could barely throw them high enough, and when i got to the right height they typically were no where near the wire.  ultimately, it was the bolshevik who retired my kicks for me, but not for lack of trying on my part.

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