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Whenever I walk, it's at a rather brisk, almost furious, pace. Friends have told me that I look like I'm speed-walking in a marathon. I'm not a tourist so there's no point to walking slowly in New York and especially Chinatown since I've seen all there is to see. Or so I thought.
One blustery Spring Day in 1982 I had to slow down to a slog. Any other man walking slower would have been stopped dead in his tracks at the sight I am about to describe.
I was on Canal Street heading toward the Manhattan Bridge when a stunning, eye-popping, barely clad young woman started to cross the street in my direction. She sported a man's open shirt tied loosely at the waist. Even at 30 yards I could tell that she wasn't wearing a bra. I have to admit here that my body continued to head Eastward while my eyes were at right angles to my path and trained directly on her exquisite upper body. It was all I could do to avoid tripping over my tongue which now was dangling a few feet from my mouth.
Just as a gust of wind began to unfurl her shirt into full sail and reveal to me the delights of heaven I banged into a metal "No Parking" Sign, raising a loud "BONNNNNGGG" which resonated through the streets. Inside my head it sounded not unlike the great golden gong at the beginning of a Rank Studios Film. My body hit the steel pole evenly from my groin to my forehead otherwise I would most likely have knocked myself out.