Across the street from the building where I'm sleeping in NYC is the Stumble Inn.
During the day, respectable-looking men and women go in and out- young, pretty people sit at the little tables outside in the summer and have their beers and burgers.
I've learned to sleep with city noise- sirens, trucks barreling down the avenue, horns honking... But I'll never sleep through closing time at the Stumble Inn. Everyone leaving sounds really angry- they're all yelling. And they're not yelling anything intelligible, except for the word "f**k." That word is the most easily recognizable, and the most frequently used, at the rate of about every third word in long soliloquys. It's almost raised to an art form by those late-night patrons of the Inn.
So, I'd better get to sleep. Closing time will be here before I know it.
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