Random shit, er, public art, on the West Side Highway.
All I wanted to do was get to Chelsea Piers to hit some golf balls. I did not need to be reminded that I live on the Island of Misfit Toys.
Then again, that’s sort-of why I love New York. It’s never not an adventure.
(Throughout the month of June, I’ll be writing a series of New York-related posts, and/or inviting some friends to guest post about their New York experiences, to celebrate my eight years in New York City.)