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| No caption necessary, just gross. |
My gut reaction to the question of why I don’t sit on public
benches in NYC is perhaps the most visceral of reactions. The simple answer is, well, because that
would just be ridiculous. The more
complicated answer is you guessed it, another wonderful Kinda OCD tale.
It all stems back to one day when I was walking through
Central Park with my mom and brother who were in town visiting. We stopped to watch a man on the sidewalk who
was creating these AMAZING spray paintings.
OCD sidebar: I loved the paintings and wanted to buy one, but there was
no way I was going to buy something that had touched a New York city street
corner …. I would never be able to look at it the same way. And I imagine spray paintings and Lysol wipes
don’t mix.
While admiring the man’s masterpieces, all of the sudden my
mom gasped in horror and pointed to a man who was sitting on a bench in the
park. It took a few seconds for me to
digest what my eyes were taking in, especially since my belly was preoccupied
with digesting the Carmine’s penne alla vodka I had just devoured (and they
allege that pasta is family sized portions …. ha).
Sitting on a bench on the edge of the park was a man who
proceeded to clean himself with the dirtiest washcloth I had ever seen. He was clearly trying to give the street
artist a run for his money for the best show in town. Dirty Shower McGee slowly motioned the rag in
and out of his nether regions, and while his soiled clothes thankfully masked
most of his hands’ excursions, the damage was already done.
I have a photographic memory which is truly a blessing and a
curse. It served me well for spelling
tests as a young lass in elementary school, but as far as my NYC days go, there
is a lot I wish I could wipe out of my mind, and this image is definitely in
the top 5. Watching this man’s “shower,”
where no body part was off limits, I thought of that episode of friends where
Phoebe sees Monica and Chandler making out from Ross’ apartment, and like her I
found myself shouting, “MY EYES!”
Now my mom, brother and I kept walking, and were able to
move on from this incident semi-unscathed, but I couldn’t help but think of the
next person who would sit on that bench, not knowing the bench’s sordid
past. Would it be a young child who
decided to put their mouth on the bench …. gross. Or would it be a couple who decided to soak
up the sun while enjoying a delightful day together. News flash: the sun isn’t the only thing you’re
soaking up on that bench today Romeo and Juliet!
This is why I don’t sit on public benches. Nowhere, no how. If I’m out with my friends and they want to
sit, I will proudly stand awkwardly beside them instead. And don’t even get me started on benches in
the subway. Consider those benches an exponential
heck to the no in my Kinda OCD world. I
literally wouldn’t sit on one for one million dollars. That’s right, one million dollars (insert
Austin Powers pinky gesture here). Sitting
on one of those things is like inviting every scum of the earth human excretion
that ever existed to touch you. There’s
a reason homeless people set up shop on those benches, and it’s not because
they’re clean.
I mean, have you ever REALLY looked at those benches? That wet mark, yeah that’s not water, that’s
urine. And sure, that red goo could be
juice but wrong again, that’s blood!
Every bench in NYC should have a sign on it stating “Sit at your Own
Risk” …. or at the very least “This is Not a Shower!”
