Homelessness: Part 2

This weekend's succession of couches themed around the generational expression, "Breadcrumbs and Caviar. Breadcrumbs and Caviar is meant to define people of my generation, who are flexible in extremely variant situations. In the morning, a person is dumpster diving with vagabond artists (and enjoys their philosophy), and that evening, engaged in conversation with the owner of Dior (and respects her principle). Each situation is fun, interesting and comfortable. Specifically:

1. Thursday night: Harlem, NYC. Slept on a long couch in the living room of my artist friend's houses. The couch sat next to a wide, open window (no AC, it is hot and muggy). The view takes in beautiful rooftops glistening under tremendous sunsets. The walk to the Subway is wonderful. The streets are filled with people, sitting on stoops, talking and hustling on every corner. It is exactly as you might imagine a Harlem neighborhood to look. The people are generally friendly, although once I did get a grunt from some shirtless guy as I passed. Whites are rare but not totally uncommon.

2. Friday night: Penthouse Suite, 1 University Avenue, Washington Square Park, NYC. Not only did I stay over at the Penthouse here, I also spent the entire evening with my friend Jack, who had a photo shoot in Soho. The location was on the top floor of the Esquire House, a notorious penthouse full of the most posh commodities I've ever seen. Prior to that, I had a beer with my colleg roommate in his 3500/mo. apartment.

3. Saturday night: Homeless on 6th Avenue until 1 am. After getting kicked out of a record store at closing time, I fatefully ran into an aquaintance on the street. She offered her couch in the Bronx, as she was getting a free taxi ride. Thinking this was God-given, I waited with her until the taxi arrived. Approaching the cab, the passenger rolled down the window, and reluctantly explained that the free cab service was only for women to get safely home. My friend got in. I stayed behind. Realizing I couldn't rely on my artist friend to get up to Harlem (there is only one set of keys, and he was staying out late downtown) I called a girl from the house in the Upper Westside and spent the night on her couch. By 2 am I was inside, curled on a 5 foot couch to wake up early for church, wearing the same clothes I had worn out the night before. Fortunately I found some free perfume samples being given out at a table on the street, and my friend brought me a sandwich. My Sunday was set.

4. Sunday night: After an afternoon in Brooklyn where I danced with Parisian models in a 3-story apartment, fully decked out (and featured in the New York Times). Then after climbing two fences with said models, and finding ourselves in the front row of a live DJ (Girltalk) in the East River Park, I headed back to Harlem. Luckily, I met up with my artist roommate at a bar in Brooklyn and he passed me the keys. I arrived back in Brooklyn to a man peeing across the exit of the subway. Instead of avoiding this encounter by walking back 2 blocks underground (my feet were killing me), I jumped over his stream to his apology and made my way to my friend's pad.

Only a week left!