Sunday, June 24, 2007


I bought corn at a street fair Saturday and they didn't give me a stick. They were out of sticks.

The plan was to get the corn, leave the street fair, cut over an avenue and walk 10 blocks to the subway. Eating my corn. Walking.

Instead I dodged tourists and baby strollers and feigned interest in reggaeton compilations, "name brand" cosmetics so old the foundation has separated in its jar and now looks like salad dressing, and 600 thread count sheets.

Why? Because walking around outside a street fair eating corn on the cob with no stick to indicate it is a street fair purchase MAKES YOU FEEL LIKE AN ASSHOLE.

You only realize when you step outside that little wooden gate. Certain foods do not well out of context. Hot dogs are versatile. You can take them anywhere. Sporting events. Movies. Walking around on your lunch break. Your car. The beach. But you can't eat lobster on the F train and you can't eat corn on the cob stickless unless you want to look like a total fucking hillbilly.