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It’s great being retired. My wife and I are almost always together and we do whatever we want, all day long.

Last month we were in JFK, waiting for our flight to Puerto Rico. Got there early, as we usually do.

I noticed that people running late generally dash through the airport to their assigned gate, hoping to make their flight. Until they reach Starbucks. Then, they just stop running and get on line.

What is it with this place? How do they have this hold on people, and make them pay upwards of $12 per visit for what they market as ‘coffee’?

I never shopped there, so maybe that’s why I remain free of their spell. Like in the movie, ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers,’ where you’re good as long as you don’t fall asleep. I am still human.

They have playrooms with gyms for the little ones in airports nowadays. To keep them busy. Because God forbid, they learn to sit still for ten minutes.

When I was little, I knew to sit and be quiet or there would be a smack arriving with my name on it.

But maybe that’s why I have trouble sitting still today. And why I complain so much. Because I didn’t run around enough when I was a little boy. Who knows?

And what’s with all the cursing? Can people not show a little restraint? Not ten feet from the playroom: “Mother f’er, I f’in told him, shut your f’in mouth before I f’in shut it for you, you dumb f…”

What’s the problem? Can’t show a dash of intelligence in your speech? Some thoughtfulness, and consideration for others, perhaps? Of course not. My luck, that guy will be seated in my row.

A half hour before the flight was supposed to begin boarding, there were 23 people already lined up in front of the gate (yes, I counted).

Why? Were they afraid the airplane would leave without them? Concerned about getting a good seat?

Once we took off, everything was fine. For about an hour and a half, which is when I had to go to the bathroom, which is something I have to do almost every hour and a half, regardless of where I happen to be.

I walked to the rear of the plane and found the bathroom door with the slide lock showing green. Which means ‘go’ (no pun intended).

I opened the door, only to see a lady sitting on the toilet with her pants bunched around her ankles. A sight, try as I might, I will never be able to UN see.

Why did she not lock the door? Was the slide lock system too difficult for her to comprehend? Did she not know the significance of the colors ‘green’ and ‘red’? Had she never used a bathroom outside of her own house before?

Why?

On the beach in Puerto Rico many people have paragraphs tattooed on their bodies. Exactly who are those paragraphs for?

Certainly not for the tattooed. Their heads don’t twist that way. And they can’t read them backwards, in a mirror…

Perhaps I am expected to go up to a strange woman, stop her, position my face a half foot from her chest and start reading…

The day after our return, I took the subway into the city to meet up with my brother for a drink. I usually nap on the subway, which indicates a real death wish on my part these days.

When I got off the train, I was planning to stop off at a bagel store until I checked out the sign above its entrance: Hot Bagels. Hot bagels. Hot bagels. HOT BAGELS!!!

What is the attraction in a hot bagel? Wouldn’t Fresh Bagels be a better idea? Your bagel could be three days old and hot out of the toaster oven!

And you know what you get when you schmeer butter or one of the 15+ varieties of cream cheese available on a hot bagel? A hot, steaming, dripping mess is what you get.

Take a walk in NYC lately? It’s great. New York is just terrific. Just as long as you keep walking around the block in circles, because you do not want to attempt to cross the street. Trust me.

This is because the bike lanes that are now everywhere seem to have given cyclists the impression that they own that real estate. And you had best not step onto their real estate, because they will not think twice about running you over. They won’t even slow down.

In fact, bike riders are now more aggressive and threatening towards pedestrians than cars are towards cyclists. They scream at you. Actually curse you as they speed by.

New York, New York.

Brought an old winter coat along, which I gave to one of the recently arrived immigrants. He was very surprised, and grateful.

So, I was feeling pretty, pretty good as I continued my stroll up 8th Avenue – until I heard a woman screaming at the top of her lungs. When I looked up, I saw her run towards me. Then she kicked me in the shins. Hard. Then she calmly walked away.

As did I. I could think of no other option.

She was most likely high from inhaling the second hand weed smoke; it cannot be avoided in New York. It’s ridiculous.

I was all for legalization, but assumed it would have the same restrictions as liquor. As in, not in the street. As in, do not drive under its influence. But no.

People are allowed to do whatever they want these days.

Actually I was all for bike lanes as well…

New York. Not like I pictured it.