Girls gone mild

So I told Mike that Bryant Park is the best place to read in, and he scoffed at me. I stand by it. No, I sit in it and read, deliciously, with 'Wichcraft beverages. He's a sworn downtown boy, and I totally get why. Bryant Park is filled with midtown execs having meetings, talking on cells, and eating lunch. But guess who is a midtown exec these days, hmm? It's also filled with women, and that matters. We'll get to that.
Anyway, since I wanted to commit to running on the treadmill during General Hospital, I figured I'd take A Winter's Tale into the 71-degree nirvana of the parks nearby. First I tried Stuyvesant Park. It never works. It's stunningly pretty with a fountain, daffodils and a view of the brownstone Quaker seminary. And it's filled with homeless drug addicts homing in on Beth Israel. (The poshies from Gramercy don't pick up their dog poo here, either.)
I always feel like a worm on a hook. I seat myself with a thermos on a sunny bench on the main promenade and sure enough, the benches around me are fill with bums asking me to wake them up in an hour so they can get in line early at the methadone clinic. Don't get me wrong, I fully support meth clinics. But invariably, this is a ploy that leads to questions about what I'm reading and then stories about how a buddy got screwed out of help with a knife wound at the ER in Beth Israel. I know this because the first time a bum asked me to wake him up I was very excited to oblige. I set the timer on my cell phone and mused over what I would yell at him to get him up (Hey, Sunshine!). But he never slept. So I got robbed of an opportunity and the ability to concentrate. Alas. I didn't even get to the question stage today. I just saw the circling and darted.
I also tried Union Square, although this is pointless. You've got three options: the East Side of the park, which is like a heroin statue garden; the West Side which either smells like dog pee or places me in the creepy position of staring at other peoples' children in the playground; or the south end, where today the ASPCA held the bullhorn du jour. Forget the north end, even if it weren't under construction, I'm a target for skateboarders.
So back to lovely Bryant Park it is. And if my rambling didn't prove my point, a terrific New Yorker article, "Girl-Counter," quantifies and illuminates my predilection in clearer terms.
Turns out women look for women to feel safer. Sister chivalry!
http://www.newyorker.com/talk/2007/09/03/070903ta_talk_paumgarten
P.S. I met the Girl Counter and told him I read his article. At first he was unimpressed. Then, he yelled out, "Did you like it?"