I am here in New York, sitting on the subway and looking at the array of tired working poor heading into the city from the Bronx, Queens or Harlem, the tourists, the Wall Street guys. My eyes vaguely take in an ad for “Bark a Box”, and I realize with a start that it’s a delivery service of goodies for dogs “tell us how big your dog’s bark is. we’ve got goodies for every dog size.”
Sitting underneath the ad there are a couple of good looking middle-aged French tourists. The woman is wearing a skirt the size of a hankie, and the man has his hand resting halfway up her thigh. The guy next to me lifts his eyes from the Wall Street Journal he is reading from time to time, to take in the brief glimpse of her underpants that she flashes at him as she crosses and recrosses her legs.
Once we get where we are going, Tribeca, we head towards a day care center that costs $4,000 a month. We find it is a wonderful and magical place where children run around like brightly colored birds on amphetines. We are treated to an hour of child development 101. As I drift in an out of this lengthy technical presentation, I glance at our fellow listeners; a couple of gay men, a slender black woman with a designer purse who looks like a model, and a Caroline Kennedy look alike, with a blue dress, matching blue purse, blue wellington boots and a diamond the size of a small island on her hand. It ‘s the kind of place where parents should love to put their children, but we decide the baby is too small, and we flee before we have to pay the $100.00 registration fee.
It ‘s explained during the course of our tour that this center will make sure that your child passes the gauntlet of interviews it will have to take, in order to enter the top-rated kindergartens that surround us. Apparently it’s so competitive to get in, these children will need extensive portfolios by the time they are five. These include Jackson Pollock imitations and certificates to say that they have learned block building skills from an expert with a Phd. The principal of the school tells us that this skill guarantees potential advanced math abilities for the child in the future.
After that we walk around Soho, and stop in at Warby Parker. At one point we sit on the cobbled street surrounded by Dior, Channel and many other smaller designer stores. Fashionable people pass us. Slender older women with just the right outfits, gay men with large dogs, famous rock stars and atheletes. My daughter points one out to me, and says he has “g” status. I ask what that means, and she says “gangsta” status.
The footwear is amazing and deserves a piece all to itself. Finally we buy the baby a hat in Giggle. It’s only eighteen dollars and it makes a bold fashion statement. Our day is made complete when a crazy Russian immigrant sits next to us on a bench in Washington Square and asks me if I hate Spanish people. Needless to say, we hastily move on to buy an iced coffee, visit Duane Reede and head home.