Small Shorts Don't Squeeze Your Finances, Or Another Reason Why I'm Ready For N.O.

The shorts turned out to be two dollars. I had to look around to double check that I was indeed in the East Village.

The drag queen who took my money told me: "You know, honey, they come in bigger sizes as well."

Her comment wasn't offensive, as the shorts I had selected were meant for a toddler. "Oh I like them tight," I told her, not mentioning that they'd be the crown jewel of my gogo dancing outfit later tonight.

She smiled affectionately and handed me the bag.

Sometimes New York still has a kick to it. But it's more in dashes, like this one.

Five minutes later at a cafe, with a book on "the precarious financial lives of American families," I watched people dragging shopping bags past the window, and more shopping bags, and people outside of expensive restaurants ashing trendy cigarettes, and the occasional sports car pulling up to get attention.

Maybe more people have stable jobs than my book suggests, I pondered. How else can they afford to live in an impossibly expensive city and still be able to shop for nick knacks at Pottery Barn on the weekends?

Then the guy next to me tells an attentive girl about his newest freelance gig that won't pay that much, and how he's going to see his astrologer this afternoon.

Okay, so everyone here is living on credit.