Sunday in New York

The weather was perfect, sunny and warm, and seemingly every single soul in the city decided to come out to play on Sunday in New York. I got in around noon, dropped my suitcase at my hotel and hotfooted it over to Hell’s Kitchen to wander around the Hell’s Kitchen Flea Market for a couple hours. Here’s how you know you’re in New York: an elderly lady in lilac lipstick calls you “bubbe”. As in, “that’s a great deal, bubbe. You should buy.” Hampered by the fact that I could only buy what I could fit in my purse, I kept my purchases to two tiny vintage black and white beach snapshots. I’ve got big plans for those little prints. I’ve already blown them up to 5-by-7 size, and they’ll join the other old beach pix I’ve been collecting for the stairwell at The Breeze Inn. But oh, how I wish I could have bought the pair of yellow motel chairs–$20 apiece–a steal! I would have air-lifted them down to Tybee and The Breeze Inn, painted them pink and planted them in the front yard. Or how about the vintage yellow and turquoise beach cruiser? After a late lunch at the Hell’s Kitchen Cafe–where hordes of chic young gay men were idling away the day with “all you can drink Bellinis and Bloody Marys”, I wandered down Fifth Avenue to Central Park, where I found a mime dressed as Lady Liberty, and an energetic break-dancing crew entertaining the crowds. Anyway, here are some of my snapshots, so you can enjoy the day vicariously.

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