To understand exactly how excited I was about the concept of a block party, it is important to know that:
1) I didn’t grow up on a block at all, I grew up on a mile section. My closest neighbor lived across the creek. He bred fighting cocks.
2) Most of my preconceptions about New York City were based on Sesame Street.
3) I was born with a Longhouse Gene. Which is to say, yes, as a matter of fact I would like to live in your commune as long as we can all agree to shower.
So I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks. First I had to do some shopping.
But all was not lost, I also went to the farmers’ market where this little guy and I admired the garlic scapes.
A few deviled eggs and a Mason jar cocktail, and we were ready to party!
I don’t know exactly how it works, but apparently blocks are allowed to petition the city for one block party every year. When we first moved here, we were really perplexed and annoyed by the random street barricades and bouncy castles that would appear on Saturday’s, but now I think it’s amazing that this is a regular part of city life and that somebody actually goes to the trouble to collect signatures and organize these little shindigs every year.
There were two bands, food and booze. Kids made chalk art and had water balloon fights. Someone organized a small game of baseball. Then, firemen came and turned on the hydrant, and pretty soon people were naked in the street! Only two very small people, but still. I’ve taken precautions to censor them here.
Thank you, firemen! Time to put your clothes back on, people.