Wednesday, October 7, 2009
If you cut a New Yorker, doth he not bleed?
Today I was walking across 22nd St. and stepped right into a puddle of blood. At first, I thought the bright red liquid might be paint, but that conclusion was quickly ruled out when my eyes followed the trail of little drops from the puddle to the man on the sidewalk bleeding profusely from his face. Good times. Oh and if you care, the guy was alright, just banged up from a bike accident, and a cop came to help him.