The great thing about Brooklyn is that people aren't afraid to let their emotions out. I'm not talking the kids who are in Brooklyn 'cause their friend from Pratt told them "man, Manhattan's over."
I'm talking about people who are from the kind of Brooklyn where if you want to get someone's attention, you open the window and scream their name. I'm talking about Brooklyn where if you're pissed off, you might want to give someone a shove.
Last Sunday, walking down Court Street, I noticed a couple: late-twenties, mutually good looking. She was dressed up in a skirt and the kind of heels that are hot only when you're standing still; once you start walking, they're just awkward to watch. He was wearing a suit.
I noticed them because they looked like they were about to kiss. Watching people make out in public -- and then pointing at them -- is one of my favorite hobbies. Turns out, I got the scene all wrong. They were in a fight, and she walked away from him. Well, tried to walk away, but her heels were not on her side.
The man in the suit walked fast to catch up, doing that sexy guy thing where he pulled his tie loose around his neck. When he did catch up, the girl gave him a massive show. She was skinny, but the shove: it moved him a few feet at least.
This might not be a public display of affection, but I still feel justified in my pointing. As I'm pointing away, a guy walks past me muttering, "nothing like domestic harmony."