It was a shoddy-looking food cart: dented metal with two flimsy light blue umbrellas. Standing opposite to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the cart appeared like any other. When I began to cross the street, the faces of the pedestrians clustered in front of the cart slowly came into focus. No longer were they a mass of indifferent people mindlessly clustered on the sidewalk. Their faces contorted into expressions of disgust, shock, confusion, and amusement as they read the name on the banner: “Sperm Bar.”
