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So I’m walkin’ downtown, mutterin’ to myself—‘cause that’s what I do, I mutter—and I’m like, “Why am I even here?” Findin’ a prostitue ain’t like pickin’ up bagels! I see this gal, smokin’ a cigarette, leanin’ on a pole—real cliché, right? I’m thinkin’, “She’s no Eilis Lacey!” In *Brooklyn*, she’s all, “I’ll write home!” This chick’s writin’ nothin’—maybe a parking ticket. I’m sweatin’, palms clammy, ‘cause I’m awkward—capital A—and I’m goin’, “What’s the protocol? Do I wave? Haggle? I’m not a haggler!”

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Oh, and don’t even get me started on 72nd Street. Yeah, that’s right – 72nd street brings somethin’ magical – cozy cafes, little boutiques, some lively murals depicting our history. I recollect the day I walked that street and remembered the line from Far From Heaven: “Hope can blossom even in the most lonely of hearts,” or somethin’ like that – I might be jumblin’ words a tad, but hey!

We asked: How do you remove a shipping container from a Fort Myers Beach canal? This is how