Sometimes you go to Smiley's in Park Slope and have a slice of pizza.
Other times, you go to Smiley's, sit quietly with your book & slice of pizza, and a homeless person sits down at your table.
The homeless man had a slice of pizza, and I'm glad he was eating. On a personal level, though, I wish he hasn't smelled.
The only way to survive living in NY is to convince yourself to believe in things that aren't true. Like that it's reasonable for one paycheck a month to do nothing but pay your rent. And that all metal objects--like subway poles--are self-sterilizing, and destroy homeless goo and germs.
Of course, that's not actually true. Watching the homeless man grab handfuls of napkin out of the metal dispenser, my elaborate suspension of disbelief in the laws of science had to end. All I could think about was the homelessness that he was leaving behind on the napkin dispenser.
I know: I'm such an asshole. I'm a terrible person, and you're never going to read about my tooth pains again.
But, dammit, I'd paid my two dollars, and come 5th graders making farting noises, and homeless men sitting at my table, I was going to finish my pizza. So I did, and then washed my hands ten times in a row.