After playing yet another St. Patrick's Day parade with the band out on Long Island, I took the train into town and landed in Penn Station. (Penn's Landing?) The thing I love about New York is the "It's a Small World After All" Disney ride feeling you get every day here.
There are loads of people that cross through this town and they/we are all different. ("We are all the same" I will save for another entry.) I tend to see this mostly at train stations. I was walking through Penn Station in my kilt transferring to the subway. I saw turbans and business suits and saris and orthodox Jewish men with payot and, well, kilts.
A veritable The Simpson's Springfield.
But one I personally had not seen the Amish up close before. As I headed to the 1, 2, 3 trains there was a whole host of them. With the goatees and the linen head things and just all of it. I immediately wanted a photo with them. It was my first impulse. Yes, sometimes my first impulse is self-serving and tacky. But what a shot. A piper with the Amish. It had to be good for something. But I thought the better of it and just enjoyed watching them pass through on their way to find an oxen to yoke or have a corned beef sandwich or whatever. I like them, the Amish.
And I love this town. Have I said that enough?