There is a girl in New York City
Who calls herself the human trampoline.
And sometimes when I’m falling and flying,
Tumbling in turmoil,
I say “Whoa, so this is what she means.”
She means we are bouncing into Graceland.
– “Graceland,” by Paul Simon
In a weekend blog post, my San Franciscan pal Colleen complained about the rude nimrods that keep street fairs from being as fun for her as she always thinks they will be. Rude nimrods are a nuisance, for sure, but the post hit a nerve for me because she was kvetching about one of the very things I find so wonderful about urban life. My comment in response was good enough that I felt like re-posting it here:
Though such events do always seem to bring the morons and cretins out to play, I love them anyway. Something about all that teeming, bustling humanity energizes me.
Besides, it is possible to meet some very nice and interesting people at street fairs and other such shindigs. I once picked up a very attractive, intelligent young woman at a gay pride parade and ended up making a nice summer romance of it.
Some of the best memories and finest relationships of my life have resulted from such random collisions with strangers. If you leave yourself open to it, wonderful things can happen on a crowded street.
