... surprising the crap out of me. He blocks me from my path and precedes to have a discussion with me. He is interested in the book I'm carrying, Special Events, and asks if I'm a planner or a student, interested in what I'm studying. I'm so sad, I think he's a known event planner looking for young people who would be interested in working with his company, so I keep talking to him. The man introduces himself as Frankie; Frankie loves my name, calling it a Spanish name... but little does he know it's Roman. A little info on this Frankie character: He is a court lawyer down at City Hall; grew up on the lower east side, but for the past 10 years has been living in Brooklyn. The creepy part comes next. He asks me where I live, "So, you live on Mott St., Mulberry?" We are one block away from Mulberry, and yeah, I live in the area. But I am not about to share my place of residence with Frankie, a man I just met. I just smile and point, telling him I live downtown. Maybe he thinks Chinatown; maybe he thinks Financial District... no matter, as long as he doesn't know where I live. "Are you going home? Let me walk you... unless you're going to meet your boyfriend," he adds with a grin. I smirk. "No, I just left him. I'm going to the grocery store." "Oh, okay." I start to walk away, "Bye," I say quickly. "Oh, all right. Well, good luck with your studies." Yeah... whatever he says. He does not strike me as creepy or disturbing... but he is in his mid-30s to early 40s... and I'm in my early 20s. Too weird, this Frankie. Anyhow... I go to a grocery store in Chinatown, and on my way home, walking on Centre St., I witness a most hilarious thing...

It's such a beautiful day today. I go up to the park to hang out with the intention of reading... but this does not happen. Instead, I enjoy the gorgeous weather brought upon me and soak it all up. Fully satisfied, I take the subway back down to Spring St. While sitting on the 6, I catch the man sitting next to me eyeing my book, Special Events. I don't say anything and just continue starring ahead at the Cingular Rollover Minutes advertisement. The subway announcer mentions some of the usual jargon and as usual I ignore it. The man sitting next to me asks if the next stop is Spring St. I say yes. He asks if it goes to Canal St. Yes. He asks if Canal St. is closer to the festival (San Genarro). No, Spring St. is. He thanks me as the subway pulls into the Spring St. stop. I get out and walk up the stairs, cross the street, and as I cross the street, I look behind and point towards the festival to the man. He nods. I continue and make my way down Cleveland St. but all of a sudden, this man stops me from behind, pulls me aside, and stops me across from the dance center...