On Having Weird Hair in New York

I was in New York all last week, and there was one afternoon when I was resting
in Bryant Park after wandering for most of the day. So I was sitting there,
minding my own business, when this old scruffy looking guy wanders up and
tells me I have really neat hair. This happened in New York a couple of times;
it was not unusual for wierd ranters to wander by, screaming gibberish at
the tops of thier voices:

“NEERERNNORD! FORFNNT BLATMOR FREEN ARLNOT! MRRF! STILLN — hey, cool hair.”

So I thanked the guy in the park and went back to my book, but the guy went
on to explain that that my hair was a really good shade given my skin color,
and that if I had more of an olive complexion, it would be a real problem,
but the purplish red works really well, but obviously I know all this because
I’m wearing black, and the black and the purple are classic Winter colors,
so obviously I understand the proper Winter wardrobe all too well.

Only in New York can you have a derelict do your colors.

I wanna go back.