Alright, somebody’s having sex on my block – and it’s not me.  

I live in one of those buildings where they like to post notices in the elevator. Usually about nice things like: Dear Lazy Residents, please fill out those census forms, or, Hey, the Pope might be dropping by so make sure you get home on time. You know, just good stuff to read up and down a few floors so you don’t have to talk to your neighbors.

Then there are the notes that, well, just make you want to cry a little. Dear readers, get your kleenex ready:

“Specifically, a resident reported that a condom was thrown from the roof deck and landed on her guest…”

Poor guest. I mean, s/he was just sitting there on the terrace sipping a vodka tonic when…PLOP!  Ok, I completely agree that this was indeed incredibly vile and disgusting and a violation of at least 283 health laws.

But of all the things flying from the heavens above New York City (read: torrential rain on your commute) – airborne condoms win every time.

P.S. Now they’re closing the roof at dusk. Damn.

 © Annatonic 2010