A friend told me that the first thing that I needed to do wherever I ended up living was walk around the neighborhood and “be seen”.  I believe he was referring to the “stranger dangers” that may be lurking in the street of Brooklyn, who might stumble upon a lost soul—a.k.a. me— trying to find his way home and cap him—this is the first time I believe I’ve used the term cap in a sentence. I took him up on that offer and walked around the streets of my neighborhood, more specifically though the nearby park.

The park was reminiscent to any New York park that you would see on any New York themed television show or movie: multi-colored pavement with slides and swings all caged within a 12-foot fence. It was odd to look at it because it continues my current phase of being a New Yorker: I am both a resident and a tourist.

As I continued my exploration, I passed by a basketball court, a racquetball court and a track until I found the treasure I was looking for: an outside gym. With planks, pull up bars, and all sorts of inanimate objects meant to be used to shape up the body, I knew I had found my own temple. I’ve been known for my physical appearance, but I was nowhere near the muscle mass of the other occupants of the outdoor gym. It’s too bad that I am only going to be here for a couple of more days.  I’m thinking about asking Monna, my sublet lady, the price of this room for a month, but maybe it is better to sign a lease versus renting an apartment. Need to build that credit.

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