So I was out very late for me Friday night, and my cab driver got lost. He stopped next to the Union Street bridge over the Gowanus Canal to consult the map, and this guy stopped to ask if he needed directions. Since I said I lived on the other side of the bridge, the guy suggested that I just get out there (or else the driver would have to drive around several blocks.) It was nearly 3 and I was a little nervous, but I paid and got out there.
So I was walking across the bridge and the guy who gave directions was walking in the same direction on the other side. Otherwise, it was completely deserted. I stopped in the middle and lit a cigarette, and, well, stood there and smiled at the pretty green water and thought drunk, poetic thoughts about the moon and life and Ode On A Grecian Urn or some shit.
My reverie lasted about 10 seconds, when I hear from across the street:
"Oh, sweetie, no. No. Don't do that. Just go home."
It's hard to convey the proper tone, here, but in that one line was a mixture of concern, annoyance, and, especially, disappointment. I think the guy's thought process was "WTF is she doing stopping?" "Oh crap, I'm the one who told her to get out. I'm therefore somewhat responsible for this stupidity." I know it's technically impossible, but I feel like I heard it occur to this guy that I might be retarded.
Anyway, I kept walking and yelled thank you to him when I got to the corner to turn. New Yorkers care!
* Every story title should be "____: Or How I Almost Died"