“Swimmin' just e-nough, just-e-nough for the ci-tayyyyyy! Ow! Ooooch! Stop it! Yowtch!”
As my beloved city meanders into another somber September 11th anniversary, there are many out there, beyond the city who seem to wet their pants every damned day in paralyzed fear.
This is allegedly in some sort of twisted faux solidarity with a “fear” they think New Yorkers walk around with every day. We are scarred in our own ways (which will be elaborated on in a post later today), but afraid?
I suppose you'd have to be here, to grasp the stupidity of that idea.
Either be here, or turn up at the wrong place at the wrong time like a certain shark did this past week on Coney Island Beach. Hat tip to the fabulous Zuzu:
NEW YORK (AP) - September 4, 2007 - When a Coney Island lifeguard spied a shark near an upset group of swimmers, he did what he thought was right: He rescued the fish.
Marisu Mironescu, 39, said he was prompted to action Monday after seeing about 75 to 100 people circling the 2-foot sand shark off the beach and "bugging out."
"They were holding onto it and some people were actually hitting him, smacking his face," said Mironescu. "Well, I wasn't going to let them hurt the poor thing."
He grabbed the largely harmless shark in his arms and carried it, backstroking out to sea, where he let it go. "He was making believe like he's dead, then he wriggled his whole body and tried to bite me," Mironescu said.
A bunch of New Yorkers, cooling out on the last summer weekend in the lolling surf—beat the shit out of a poor shark who rolled up on 'em.
With their bare hands.
Slappin' him around.
To where the lifeguard...gimme a second.—If I type this while laughing, I'll mess this up—to where the lifeguard... had to save the shark's life.
It's this kind of story that makes me love this crazy-ass town that much more every day.
Afraid? No. Unpredictable and crazy as hell? Oh yes.
And control freak, buzzkill-ass Rudy Giuliani be damned, real New Yorkers wouldn't have it any other way.
Belt it, Bernadette!
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