I stopped for a break with Snow White (my loyal bike) on the park benches in Riverside Park right above the soccer fields at 101st Street. There was a lot of commotion down below—exuberant salsa music playing, soccer games happening, and a group of families gathered around…something. I wandered down the stairs for a closer look and saw:
A line holding clay pots,which had been turned into makeshift piñatas, was suspended in a corner of the playing field. The kids were having a blast trying to bash them with an enormous stick, after first being blind-folded and spun around in circles.
My children love piñatas. Someone always narrowly misses getting whacked with a bat/stick/fireplace implement, and then invariably the smallest kid gets smothered by all the others while everyone greedily goes after candy. It was no different here. I was trying to remember what little trauma training I’ve had in case I was called upon to take care of a bloody disaster.
But no. Just laughing, singing, and dancing. It was fantastic to watch.
I tried to watch the game for a while, but soccer is still an unfathomable sport to me.
Then I noticed the guy in the below photo. I was amused to see his shirt, and even more amused to hear a conversation next to me. Two 20-something girls were discussing the shirt. “What does that mean and who’s Frankie?” “I think it was a song or something. Oh, and a shirt.” I guess I shouldn’t laugh. She’s right.