I'm walking home from the Whitney, after a crazy detour through some kind of bubble fest that was happening on Broadway (tons of people making soap bubbles with various implements including: automated bubble guns; huge Y shaped contraptions that produce monster bubbles; and old school 'o' on a stick bubble makers), passing by a 300-strong yoga class that was taking place in the middle of Times Square (only in New York, right?).
I'm negotiating my way throught the throng of fat American tourists when a tattooed guy with a mini-mohawk calls out, "Hey, you dropped your sunglasses!" as I walk by. I look back, confused, and he says "No, I'm just kidding. They're on your head. Do you like comedy?"
I notice he is handing out flyers for a comedy night, like many other poor shlubs peddling tickets around Times Square, centre of the entertainment universe. I smile at my dim-wittedness and shake my head no as I keep walking.
"No? Do you like skinny white guys?"