Things being what they are. I needed to get da hell out'a Dodge. I portaled to West 38th Street Manhattan. October 9th 1953 CE,1:43pm. I was dressed in old jeans a 21st century Space Force t-shirt, and a Vietnam veteran’s cap. I wear that for my brother.
No one noticed. I love NY.
What strikes one are the smells. Car exhausts soot from light industry massive lots of dog poop, and a thick background radiation of cigarette smoke. In them technicolor days everyone over the age of 11 smoked like a chimney. ...It made me light headed.
I weaved into the street taking the snap above. ‘Was almost hit by a '53 Chevy delivery van. The guy yelled assorted ethnic slurs at me. I would have taken his portrait, but didn’t want to start a race riot. I stumbled along to a news stand. I asked for “Fantastic Four” No.1,…guy never heard of it. Seems I was about a decade early.
So I got a Hershey bar which is twice the size as ours, and 5.cents! I went behind a phone booth,…these all over the damned place. I shifted phased or whatever back to the demented, and expensive future.
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