Jingly Underpants

As I was walking up the West Side today, a guy with a scarf wrapped around his head suddenly turned & spit contemptibly at two girls walking ahead of me. They looked at each other in shock, then laughed at the strangeness of it. Might have been racially motivated, since the girls were Asian. Might have been a raging misogynist on the loose. Might have been completely unexplainable. Never a dull moment in New York.

There's a joint in the East Village called Maia Meyhane where they feature bellydancing on certain weekdays. Drinks are steep ($6 for a bottle of beer). The food is Mediterranean (I didn't try any since I'd already stopped at Lucky's Burgers & sampled their special sauce). The bellydancing didn't commence until two hours after their website claimed it would. The dancer was gorgeous & snakey & had a flower in her hair. However there were several photographers orbiting her at all times, flashes & floodlights getting in my eyes. Recording the event was evidently more important than enjoying it. A duo onstage provided the music, with the sounds of traditional Middle Eastern instruments sampled onto a Korg keyboard. A curious anachronism. After the dancer fled offstage, I left, unaware if there were to be any following acts. Walking to the subway, I reminisced about the more lowkey bellydancing I used to watch in Boston. There are probably better venues here, just a matter of finding them.

A man stepped into Lucky's Burgers while I was eating, glanced around at the radioactive yellow-orange interior, muttered "this place is a farce" under his breath, then stomped out.