Happy Puerto Rican Day!

Having ridiculous experiences and creating stories that put fiction to shame, I've had several requests to create a blog. I found it only appropriate to begin with a good story. So here it is.

As I woke up yesterday in a stranger's bed in a basement, I stared at the Homer Simpson poster stapled on the wall and went through the usual questions in my head. 1. Where am I? 2. Who is that? 3. What day is it? Am I late for work?! 4. Cell phone? Jewelry? 5. And how do I get home?

But what was most interesting was how I incidentally celebrated one of New York's most cherished cultural days: The Puerto Rican Day & Parade. Every year at least someone gets shot or beat up and hundreds are out getting drunk and high.

As I walk up the stairs from the basement and into the light of Brooklyn, the Puerto Rican Day festivities are well underway. Cars drive by with the red, white and blue Puerto Rican flags. A toddler has a flag on his shirt and small flags on wooden handles stick out of his parents' back pockets. They sure have a lot of spirit.

I sit on the top stair and stare at my new-found friend and wonder what his name might be and if my head has ever hurt worse than it was now. We are waiting on the car service to pick me up and whisk me back to Manhattan where I belong. His skin brown, hair curly. He's not cute. He tells me he is Puerto Rican. (dramatic pause) ....And at that very moment ladies and gents, I knew I had done a great service. In the name of cultural awareness, I held my head high with hands on hips and shouted, "I celebrated Puerto Rican Day. Have you?"

And so I'll leave you with this: Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country. America, you can thank me later.