New York City.
We’re in a place called Brooklyn, which is kind of like New York—except that instead of tall buildings and Wall Street douches, it’s full of guys wearing odd-looking hats and facial hair (hipsters, Hasidic Jews…take your pick) and all the women are pushing around babies. Jesus and I fit right in but Kirk stuck out like a sore thumb. Luckily, he had a “ghetto pass”, his sister had a baby—so nobody hassled us.
Jesus said that every time he comes to New York, he always feels kind of sad and he never really knows why. “I know it’s stupid,” Jesus said as he stared at Manhattan, “but I can’ help but think of all the people living lives way better than mine.”
Ouch. Like I’ve said a dozen times, no one can punch you in the gut like old Jesus.
We looked at the buildings a little bit longer. And I started to feel like crap. Thanks Jesus.
Finally Kirk said, “I don’t know. I can’t think of any place I’d rather be than with you guys, right here, right now.” Sure it was gay and sappy and corny and all that and more. But damn if I didn’t see Jesus crack a smile.
Just when we needed it the most—Kirk to the rescue!
this kills me!
