Lunch and a show. A pair of interns, hired not long after I arrived, are heading back for senior year next week, so I took them to a yakiniku (Japanese Korean-style barbecue) joint on 49th (I think, maybe 48th) and Lexington for lunch today.
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The food was great, and the lunch specials reasonable; we cooked our strips of various meats at the table, and ate it over rice, drank soup, talked about cats and liquor and foreign travel. Great meal.

On the way back to the office, we saw a clearly drunk and likely shermed-out shirtless man walking up the sidewalk in front of us. Blood dripped down his face from multiple cuts on his forehead, and his face was swollen shut as if he'd been punched with a firelog. He shouted unintelligible obscenities as he stumbled along, careening against lightposts, kicking newspaper boxes, tearing payphones from their cradles, and occasionally dropping to his knees to bash his head against the sidewalk.

Eventually several cops came, rolled on their latex gloves, billyclubbed him in the back of the knees, cuffed him and oh-so-gently tossed him in the back of a paddywagon. As the van rolled away, one cop said to another, as he removed his bloody gloves with a snap, tossing them to the pavement, "Fuckin' asshole. Got a smoke?"

I'm sure the glove is still there, lying on the street; I wonder if it'll melt in the heat.