So, Rhian and I were in NYC a few weeks ago, on my friend Kristen's annual NYC bus trip. As with most things in my life, our day revolved around food. We had cannollis, pizza, and some pub food. Did some shopping, walked alot...took the subway to Soho. All in all, a lovely day in my favorite place. That is, until we got to Fifth Avenue. There I was ready to go into one of my former favorite stores, Zara. I refuse to shop there now because the last few times I have been there, the clothes look like they are made for 5 foot tall anorexics and that is not me. I have hips and boobs that have to fit into clothes, you know...the way a woman should look.
I digress.
We are walking along looking at the lovely holiday decorations when all of a sudden...the most gruesome sight is in front of us. There were about 4-5 NYPD officers standing around looking at the sidewalk and the area was roped off with the yellow "Caution" tape. The police and everyone else around the area were stopped to see a bloody, dying possum. The poor thing somehow made its way to 5th ave (Not sure why...was in search for holiday bargains? Tiffany earrings? A Vuitton bag?...we may never know). Rhian thinks he ventured out of the Park on a cocaine binge and was looking to score more rock. I think he was perhaps going to Prada.
We may never know, but it was quite sad to see a bloodied possum dying in front of out eyes. The cops had to kill him to put him out of his misery. We ran into a store to avoid seeing that. Then, he was scooped up by animal control.
Rhian took it harder than me, he is much more sensitive and well, quite frankly, a lot nicer than me. I yelled at him to get over it, that things die, that is life and be thankful is wasn't a person. What can I say? I was brought up to "take it like a man"! But deep down, I just wish that possum would have stayed in the park. Even Prada isn't worth dying for.
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