One Sunday in March, I drive into New York City with my young family to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art. There is nowhere nearby to park, so I drop my family at the side entrance and keep looking. I work my way across town, still no luck. At a parking lot with a “full” sign posted I get an inspiration and show the attendant a ten dollar bill. He agrees that there is just enough room for one more car, and I walk back to the museum to catch up with my family. While we are in the Arms and Armor room admiring Henry the VIII’s steel codpiece, we hear the noise of a brass band out on Fifth Avenue. We have forgotten it is Saint Patrick’s Day!
We step out onto the museum’s broad front steps. Many people are here already, watching the remaining groups and bands organize and warm up before they march off to connect with the parade’s main body. The groups nearest us are at a momentary standstill. One man standing near us on the steps incessantly blows a green plastic horn. Blat. Blat. Blat. Finally, from half a block away, we hear “HEY YOU STUPID MOTHERFUCKER, STOP BLOWIN’ THAT HORN!” Our step-mate pauses to consider, tucks the horn under his arm and leaves.
The following day, the New York Times features a photo of Ed Koch at the parade, wearing a tweed cap and cable-knit sweater. The mayor is shouting at someone out of frame, his hand to his mouth like a megaphone, probably just repeating his catchphrase “How’m I doing?” demand. I entertain myself by drawing him a felt-tip word balloon of the demand we heard yesterday.
