Snapshot: guy rockin out on the corner

The other day, waiting to cross DeKalb at the corner of Flatbush. There's a guy across the way, holding an iPod in his hand, one ear bud in. He is skinny. Tall and veiny. Oldish, maybe in his fifties. Long, straggly thin whitish hair, with one of those dinky, crescent-shaped kind of cowboy hats. Hair past his shoulders and wispy. Sleeveless, and skinny jeans, white sneakers. He could be Johnny Winter's scarier, less healthy looking uncle. Or some kind of Southern rock cowboy ghost. Not sure he has all his teeth.

And he's rocking out, playing air guitar, and I can see he's singing along but I can't hear above the traffic. He's got kind of awkward, snaky Axl Rose kinds of moves, hopping up and down on the edge of the curb. Really getting into it. There, he's doing a solo. A lip-biting solo. There, a windmill.

To my left, there's a guy on my side of the street. Older black guy. He's got no music as far as I can tell, but he starts dancing and playing air guitar too, looking at the Southern rock cowboy ghost. I'm thinking, "This is getting bizarre."

So the light changes, I step into the crosswalk, and the gaunt Southern rock cowboy ghost guy snakes and gyrates into the crosswalk. He's got his eyes closed, so I can stare at him all I want, and as he gets closer I can hear him singing. He's moving slower now, grooving. An arena ballad? I don't carry a lighter. Anyway, I hear him and this is what he's singing:

"I'm all out of love, I'm so lost without you...."

Air Supply. Okay. Not what I was expecting, but damn, this is part of what makes this a great town. You rock on to Air Supply, Southern rock cowboy ghost guy. (Insert Dio devil horns hand sign here.) You. Rock. On.

First trip to Flushing, 2010

Haven't written much about the Mets here this season, but have been following them as closely as always. Which is to say, "Every freaking day." My son's little league team was part of the pregame parade around the warning track, which was great fun, even if parents weren't allowed to walk down there too.

The Mets are wildly uneven this year, which is to say, "Completely freaking streaky." Approximately twice as better at home vs. on the road. But, maddening as that can be, it is a huge improvement over last season's disaster, and we've been reminded this year just how much fun it can be to watch clean, heads up baseball.

Yesterday, we had seats way up in the left field upper deck. But, it felt fine, and although we'd had a week of the most sweltering and humid days you can imagine in early June, there was at least a breeze and it was mostly overcast. Didn't rain till late in the game, and didn't rain hard till we had to get back to the 7 train.

And we all left with smiles as the Mets completed the sweep of the hated, which is to say, "HATED," Florida Freaking Marlins. What's more, it was a comeback win, in which the Metropolitans trailed by five runs. This year's club is fun to root for, and we had fun yesterday. And we got Mr. Met Beach Towels. Hello, Summertime.....