Well, at least I can say that I did it.

Yesterday seemed like a normal day, until I, you know, thought about it. I got up, had breakfast, showered, wrote some. Then I got ready to head over to my friend's fitness class... in the middle of Times Square.


My friend invited me to an event he was involved in, a yoga exhibition on Military Island in Times Square. We're talking a fifty foot (at best) median where 7th Ave and Broadway come together. I didn't even think before saying yes. I'm glad I didn't because I think I would have declined and missed out. I was, by far, the least accomplished one there, falling over my twisted limbs more than once. That's bad enough when you're in a closed class and the others can see/hear you fall. However, we were in the middle of Times Frickin' Square! Cars going by, tourists snapping pictures, ABC Studios right there... it had some incredible embarrassment potential. And yet, I really enjoyed it. That is, until I looked back on my mat and noticed a scrap of paper that had appeared out of nowhere. Then I started to get really creeped out about the cars streaming by and the exhaust and the soot and the people. Suddenly a nice, clean, air-conditioned studio became very important to me.


Still, I can say that I sought enlightment and zen and all that shit in the middle of Times Square.

Disclaimer: The pictures are not from the actual event that I intended, but a similar one held a month earlier.