a very late night out talking in the village. 3am looking for a camp spot on quiet Irving Place. a fancy cafe has a stone wall with plants separating a tiny recessed entry plaza from the sidewalk. we go down two steps and tuck behind the stone wall, out of sight from the sidewalk, and try to rest. very public, so we don’t relax. i don’t take my sneakers off, or my glasses. Sure enough in the gray predawn, i feel someone moving Bill. i wake up and squint- it’s a young hipster. he says, “have a croissant.” i’m like, “what?” he says, “Look…” He has placed a gigantic gleaming silver platter full of a basket of hot croissants, steaming coffee with little creamer pitcher and sugar. He says, “next time, let us know you’re coming. Upstairs is a B&B where i work, and i saw you when i got up. you could have come in last night, but now since it’s the morning, my boss is gonna be here in 15 minutes. please enjoy, but leave soon or we’ll all be in trouble.” I’m like, “what?” and he says, “it’s easy to be nice, but people kind of forget that in NYC, so i thought i would try to remember.”