So, today at work, I'm outside having a cigarette, (yes I realize that sounds familiar, but keep reading). →[More:] As I stood on the sidewalk, a caravan of black town cars, and official looking vehicles turns on to 12th street. All of a sudden the stop mid-turn and all these dudes in dark suits get out and start doing all these Green Hornet-type moves around the car and open the door. Out come two South Asian men dressed in what I can only describe as extremely chic-looking Nehru jackets. They escorted them inside. Turns out it was India's Minister of Finance and their Ambassador to the UN. The suited dudes (Secret Service obviously) hung out all over as the bigwigs browsed. Only later did it occur to me that as I worked during that period, I was usually holding a fucking boxcutter. I can just imagine one of the bodyguards speaking into hidden mic "Please be advised, the weird looking guy in the cap is armed. Beware of sudden moves." Sheesh.

Of course, we had the usual parade of homeless guys, semi-pro book dealers, attic-cleaning hausfraus and a couple I like to call Mr. & Mrs. Heroin who scour trash bins for books, answer every question with a droned "Uhhh what??" They could rent themselves out as a walking anti-drug ad.

One of the great things about this city is that you encounter that big a swath of humanity in a typical workday.