I am an autumnal person, so I don’t usually offer up an elegy for the summer. I’m always happy to leave the silly season behind; ready to put on my boots and get back to serious pursuits in September. Sure, it means saying farewell to picnics in the park, skinny dipping, marshmallow roasting and sandy toes. But it also means saying farewell to bug bites, crusty flip flops, butt sweat and overheated subways.
However this year, I am bidding adieu to a new summer treat. I went to a picnic with some pals in Central Park recently. As we enjoyed fried chicken and Rosé, this man caught my eye. Actually, he caught everyone’s eye. We stared in wonder, mid-bite of fried chicken.
Indeed, this mighty, speedo-clad warrior, slicing the muggy air with his baton, laser-focused on his park routine, is a new reason to shed a tear for the passing of the season. He karate-kicked his way into my heart.
Goodbye my sweaty friend.
Until next year.