Bad choices

Alicia and I met some guys in Times Square. They convinced us to come back to John's place on Staten Island. While maybe it didn't seem like the world's best plan--we didn't know them at all--we're young women in the city that never sleeps. That kind of naturally leads to what we later termed bad decisions.

Soon I found myself standing on the deck of the Staten Island Ferry while Daryl cuddled against Alicia and John and I discussed marriage (I told him I didn't know him well enough) and football (he played in college and was sidelined due to an injury.) He also touched my neck a lot. I considered throwing him in the water. They were both comedians. John was born in Italy.

Once we got to Staten Island, after a beautiful ride on the ferry, we followed them to the significantly less impressive buses. Right as we were about to board, Alicia said she was tired. She wanted to go home. Her guy--not that the other guy was mine--didn't seem too thrilled. We had to wait an hour for the next ferry. Once again, it was a beautiful ride.

We're almost back to the hostel and have been bemoaning our bad choices sitting down in the subway, wishing for the 2 or 3 train. A rat ran by. John called my phone almost as soon as I stepped off the ferry but wouldn't tell me why. We may hear from them again. Or not. I'm good either way. There are more details that I'll fill in when I'm not exhausted blog writing from my phone. For now we're on the subway and soon we'll be back and I can't believe some guy tried to hook up with me while I was wearing a sundress and athletic shoes.

I guess there really is no accounting for taste.