Airlock Sex and the Space Shuttle

My reading was Wednesday night.  I’m only now writing about this because yesterday was a complicated bummer and I want to get across my real experience of that evening, without the later baggage. We were considering whether to take a ferry over to Midtown and walk to a subway station or take trains the whole way.  That was an easy decision once we got a gander of the space shuttle Atlantis being barged up the Hudson to the Intrepid Museum.  Ferry, definitely. The ferry got us pretty close, but we walked on over to see the last retired remnant of that step in the right direction.  Reusable vehicles that can land under their own control – awesome.  If only they could escape without the rocket.  Well, that will come…or we won’t have a viable space future.  I can’t bring myself to believe that’s a possibility. Falafel was the name of the game. James promised me that you couldn’t turn around without some street vendor handing you a falafel sandwich.  Pita bread, lettuce, tomato, white sauce, and hot sauce, all lovingly wrapped around the best treatment of chick peas I’ve ever experienced. Midtown was a bust, on that level.  We got to the train station without any sign of food other than hot dogs.  The foot traffic flowed and we picked up the rhythm immediately, absorbing energy down 8th Ave.  A brief subway journey later, we were on the Lower East Side and, what do you know, there was falafel on the very corner on which we exited the Delancey Street train station. And it was good. We ate the falafel standing right next to the food cart.  It disappeared so quickly that, within moments of the last swallow, we started talking about getting another one before heading back that night. We[…]

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