Things Get A Little Weird Around Here On Sunday

Things get a little weird around here on Sunday. The usual places are closed, and we are forced to go to the smaller places, but the smaller places don't really act as though they want us there. (If they don't want us there, they shouldn't stay open.) The way the man looked at me yesterday made me think that perhaps something untoward was happening, perhaps in back. Then he slapped the change into my palm as if to say "no need to come back here next week. We know you only come around here on Sundays anyway and we're none too impressed." Things get a little weird around here on Sunday.

My Sidewalk Is Often Blocked By Heavy Machinery

My sidewalk is often blocked by heavy machinery. I live on a quiet street in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, New York City, New York, United States, Earth. Down the street from my building is a small company the business of which is some kind of metal fabrication. Maybe "fabrication" is the wrong word. What is the right word? Manipulation? I don't know. But they sandblast, weld, paint, saw, and bend metal. Long pieces of metal. Maybe they're I-beams. Again, I don't know--I just live down the street. Anyway, most weekdays, their shop spills out onto the sidewalk in front of the place. They sandblast, weld, paint, saw and bend metal right there on the sidewalk. Sometimes they take up a couple of parking spaces with their equipment and tools and materials too. (I'm the last person to complain about lack of parking. Ban automobiles--see if I care. But last time I checked--which, all right, was never--you needed a permit to hog an entire sidewalk and part of a street.) The workers make no apology about the fact that pedestrians have to walk out into an open street in order to pass by. And why should they--I'm sure it's not the workers' policy to take over the world with their steel beams.

It's one of those things I don't really mind, but it gets me to wondering just who is in charge around here.

(Photo: Will Sherman, www.untitledname.com)