This morning, as I was locking my bike to a signpost outside of my office, a cop standing nearby started yelling something at me. Half asleep, half dazed from my commute i strained to figure out what she was babbling about. It became apparent that she was ordering me to come over to her. As I made my way over I tried to figure out which law I had just broken. She met me half way and led me by my arm to a row of newspaper boxes. On the front page of a few of these papers was something about baseball. I don't watch baseball. I know nothing about baseball. I could give a shit about baseball. She then went off on a tirade about the Yankees (or was it the Mets?), all the while babbling incoherently and pointing at the newspaper box.
At this point I'm thoroughly confused. I kind of just nod and start to back away slowly--repeating things like "yeah, contract" and "that's totally fucked up how those guys did that thing your mad about". I just wanted to get the fuck out of there. So I threw up my arms in a "whatcha gonna do about that baseball stuff" gesture, and told the obviously mentally unstable cop to have a good morning. Just as I did the light changed, and I was left standing next to this cop I had just said goodbye to. I crossed the street anyways and nearly got taken out by one of those shitty double decker tourist busses.
So what's the moral of this story? Fuck if I know. Just let it be known to all baseball fans out there, just because I'm a New Yorker doesn't mean I care about your stupid game. And dear New York, stop giving fucking lunatics badges and guns.
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