After living in NYC for three years, I’ve seen my share of characters. Especially when I lived in Chelsea.  Actually, I don’t think I really lived in Chelsea. The locals referred to it as Hellsea and I called it the neighborhood between Ghetto & Gay once I realized that I lived around the corner from The Bikini Bar which staffed pregnant bartenders in swimsuits (classy), and was a hop, skip and a jump away from Rawhide.

On one hot August day, I headed out to run errands and heard a lot of commotion across the street.  I scoped the scene and saw a naked black man with a red shopping cart hanging out. He, of course, did not have any groceries in his shopping cart.

His peers, which I presume, lived in the low-income apartments in the neighborhood were laughing. The mailman got in on it too. There was even a cyclist that looped around three or four times to get a peek.  Although this very interesting Naked Black Man with a red shopping cart didn’t seem to be a fan of social graces as he was chillin’ butt naked in the middle of the block,  he did have enough sense to realize that the cyclist’s overt drive-bys were rude and yelled out that he was a pervert.  And, just like the pervert, with no shame, I was able to snap a pic as a way to remember this very NYC moment.