Getting chased by a fake zombie and bum = New York rite of passage

As you all know, I’m not myself in spring or winter, so this week’s warmth geared me up for an amazing summer. The two-month rain spell seems to have passed and I no longer have to cart an umbrella or jacket around with me, so life is good. It’s both incredible and horrifying how affected I get by the weather. It’s not good in the long-term, but hopefully I can hold out for two more years in balmy New York City.

Last night, my roommate and I went out to Murray Hill, and on our way to the bar, we found ourselves head to head with an angry bum, who shouted several incoherent words our way. My roommate quickened her pace and I did the same when I realized the raging guy was chasing us. We had to sprint a block to the bar, our sanctuary. Only in NYC would something like that occur. There are plenty of goofy homeless folks where I come from, but bay area hobos are chill and low-key for the most part. I’ve never felt threatened by a nor Cal homeless person. I cannot say the same about their NYC counterparts. Oy vey.

We had a memorable time regardless, even though some pretty odd characters began chatting us up twenty minutes into our night. One of the guys was married with twins and the other was “engaged to be engaged,” as we learned from their third wheel, non-jerkface buddy an hour after first meeting them. It was obvious from the start, so we just laughed, although I was a tad bit repulsed when the soon-to-be-engaged dude cut me off and said, “I’m sorry, I just cannot stop staring at your roommate’s boobs right now.” High five for discretion! Jen and I returned home before long and gobbled up two slices of the leftover pizza she had ordered that afternoon.

On my way to NYSC today, I walked past Doggy Gym and couldn’t believe my eyes:

They have clear windows to torture me. Clearly. Honestly, though, is that not the best sight in the world? And why can’t this pup be mine? Things weren’t too soothing or peaceful all day, though. After my workout, I called my mom to catch up. Just before I crossed Sixth Avenue, a brawn man in construction worker attire approached me and tried to grab my iPhone. Upon studying him further, I saw he had fake blood all over his clothes and zombie make-up caked on his crazed smiley face. He cornered and chased me for a few feet until I said into the mobile device, “Mom, some creepshow is chasing me in Chelsea right now. Why the Hell do I live here?!”

“Move back to California,” she responded. That’s her answer for all my NYC travails, but she must be onto something. Mother knows best.

Anyway, thank you Apple for saving me from one of the many faux zombies pranking passersby on the streets of big cities. Seriously, guys, the Zombie Apocalypse thing is not real and becoming stale. No more zombie jokes.

That said, I find it rather amusing that I’d be chased twice in less than 24 hours. It can only mean I have one hilarious and awesome summer ahead. Bring it.

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