By far, the coolest thing about walking around New York City is the people too be seen. Here in Washington when you walk the city streets, you see mostly Capitol Hill hipsters wearing Washington power suits and tennis shoes for the walk from the metro to their offices, interspersed with tourists. Sometimes there will be an occasional interesting character thrown in for color, but it's a pretty homogeneous group for the most part.

By contrast, anywhere you look in New York, you can find people from every walk of life, every socio-economic background, every ethnic group, dressed in clothing from every decade. I became obsessed by the idea that if I just got the right camera angle on a specific person in front of the right building, I could take a photo that looked like it came straight out of the 1920s, 1940s, 1960s, 1980s.... anything you want. But taking a bunch of photos in New York without a press credential is a little dicey. I was actually yelled at by a security guard in the Post Office across from Madison Square Garden, who gestured wildly while he explained in no uncertain terms that I could "take pictures of this side, BUT NOT THIS SIDE." Because apparently, what the terrorists want? Is to see our postal employee service windows.

This guy was in the park at the Pratt Institute doing some unknown exercise routine.

He took it very seriously and we had to resist the urge to join him -- which, if you know us, would have meant mocking him. Somehow, I think he would have enjoyed the fact that we joined in and completely missed the mocking part.

I loved this woman who was sitting in the same park eating breakfast and reading a paper. I don't know if she consciously dressed up to look like the statue. Maybe she's the model. Maybe she's just drawn to it for some as yet unknown reason to her but one that everyone else can plainly see. Whatever the reason, it was too good to miss the photo op. We had to pretend I was taking a picture of Monica, however, because this woman had a look on her face that said if anyone messed with her she'd pull a switchblade out of her back pocket and cut them. And that's a part of the New York experience, I just didn't want to have.