I haunted the restaurant supply district on the Bowery early this afternoon for ramekins, convinced I could pay less than the $2 Bed, Bath & Beyond asks per six-ounce model. Many restaurant supply stores are shuttered Saturday, I learned. But these are the places to go if you want napkin dispensers or red plastic squeezable ketchup dispensers or bulk boxes of those tiny paper umbrellas that adorn tropical alcoholic beverages. Ramekins are apparently more exclusive.
Mingling with the skateboarders, greengrocers and craft-sellers on the southwest corner of Union Square, some modern-day hippies held up hand-painted signs that read “Free Hugs.” They wavered expectantly, like athletes waiting for the starter’s gun, trying to make eye contact as pedestrians rushed by from every angle. A woman nearby videotaped the uneventful enterprise, whether a curious passer-by herself or a documentarian affiliated with the group. A tall man on his cell passed a bit too closely to one of the hopeful huggers, an older man wearing suspenders, who advanced with a gesture that was half “see my sign?” and half “I’m gonna hug you anyway!” The guy on the phone smiled but did not break his stride as he held up a Heisman Trophy-style hand meant to signal “no thanks” but firm enough to serve as deflection if necessary. I felt for the old guy but I must admit there is inherent creepiness in hugging a man, a strange man in New York City moreso, wearing suspenders.
Later I tooled around my neighborhood for a slice of pizza for dinner. I had trouble indicating which fruit-punch flavored beverage I desired from the cooler behind the counter. The Hawaiian Punch, the girl behind the counter asked? No, I said, stretching out my arm to point, that one. The Snapple? No, the tall bottle. Here? No, right... down a shelf... to the right. Yes, that one. Let the record show I was thirsting for a Jarritos, el sabor más Mexicano.
At the corner of Dyckman and Sherman, sidewalk entrepreneurs were hawking not only Mother’s Day bouquets of roses and assorted field flowers, but Mylar helium balloons and tiny lace-trimmed satin pillows stitched with “Love you, Mom.” Aww.