14 July 2007...3:34 pm

I Have Had To Pee For Thirty Years

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I was surprised, too, but I spent Thursday night in Northeast Queens. So did the New York Philharmonic. It was a concert. Free. There were all these bony-Julliard types wandering around with briefcases, the only people more disoriented than the Mendelssohn soloist.

The concert was preceded by a lengthy session of dignitary wheezing; the Queens Borough President said he’d expected Anthony Weiner, but apparently something more important was happening in Washington! Aghast and mouth agape, he paused. Babies continued to cry, and mothers continued to schmear them with fried chicken.

I, however, listened. (I am incredibly obedient. If there’s one thing I like, it’s being told stuff to which I cannot retort). And I learned! The concert was being held in the “premiere park in Northeast Queens!”

I was like, premiere, sche-miere. But then the Friends of the Park’s most recent accomplishment was announced: female restroom facilities. They had been campaigning, apparently, for thirty years for female restroom facilities.

I choked a little on my Merlot, looked at Erica, and we clapped as loudly as we would later, after Tchaikovsky’s Pathétique. In fact, I was so enthralled by the reality of a park prepared only for male bladders that I looked at their website this afternoon. Recreational sexism is not the only thing at which Northeast Queens excels.

On their Steering Commitee, the (presumably) esteemed Robert A. Miller fulfills the responsibility of “Motor Parkway Historian.”

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All you ever wanted to know about the Van Wyck, all in one place.

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