Remembering The Chelsea

Remembering the Chelsea"Don't look; don't look. You don't want to see an old woman pee, do you?" I Turned toward the voice. A woman, not too old--in her late 50s or early 60s--stood near a doorway, her legs spread apart, urinating. It was not quite four o'clock on a Saturday afternoon in April. One or two people passing by turned toward her, shrugged a shoulder, or smiled, or grimaced, and walked on. I looked past her. Twenty-third Street. Discount drugstores, florists' shops, statione...