Odd things happen in the new New York City, especially when the politics of the Big Apples image is at hand. On August 26th, Democratic presidential candidate Howard Dean held a rally in Bryant Park.
Wendy Cole arrived on the fifth floor of 32 West 18th Street wearing a grimace and holding the hand of her three-year-old, a boy with closely cut bronze curls who plodded next to his mother with heavy feet. Cole didnt even glance around the waiting room as she stepped off of the elevatorinstead, she went directly to the receptionists desk to retrieve her paperwork. She was running late, and had spent nearly twenty minutes walking up and down West 18th Street trying to find the midwifery center of St. Vincents Hospital.
I gave it a few days. I didnt want to sound dumb. But there may be no undumb way to write about a Skittle crime spree. Yes, I was guilty.
But not of winging a Skittle at a short, fat cop. Actually, the Skittle wasnt winged out the car window, but more like dribbled by a somewhat fearful perpetrator. It wasnt even a chewed Skittle. Specifically, it was a sour Skittle, meaning it was dusted with stuff to make you puckervitamin C and toxins.