Somehow we managed to get hissed at by a strange man, recruited into a seven year old's pick up lacrosse game, menaced by a raccoon in daylight, and finally, we finished our day with margaritas while guiltily evading the glares of these three white, bald, bearded Buddhist monks (robes, prayer beads, and all) while they skulked outside of Blockheads.
New York never gets old.
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