Lucky Charms

"What's up with that smile?" a guy flirtatiously asked me today.

What, indeed. I've decided to see how I can use my powers for good.

That requires being out and about and seeing who's there.

My interest was piqued by the urban explorer who was talking at Fountain Books.

Author Moses Gates was titillating us with his witty repartee on the subject of his book, "Hidden Cities: A Memoir of Urban Exploration."

The kind of exploring he does involves abandoned buildings and subway tunnels, rooftops and observation decks.

He began by explaining how an ordinary person like himself (or, say, any of us) could make it to the top of the Chrysler Building to see the eagles that adorn the top of it.

Yea, the same ones I saw slides of in art history class in college.

We heard about his exploration of a variety of bridges and how being that high provides a panorama that includes the horizontal and vertical separation of the landscape.

According to him, getting to the top of the Woolworth building is as easy as, "We put on suits and schlepped up 40 flights."

So we see that easy is relative.

Paris' catacombs, which he called "the coolest place in the entire world," provided some of his best stories and a recommendation that we spend a night there.

He showed us a bunch of images of the astounding art that's been created down there and not just painting, but sculpture, too.

Insisting that, "All cities should have a free observation deck on their municipal building," he told of visiting ours today, saying, "You guys are so lucky!"

As one who has been up to City Hall's observation deck dating back to the '90s, I think the man has a point.

I don't know that I need to climb to the top of Egypt's great pyramids like he did, but now I know that the entire top of the pyramid is covered with initials carved into it, something I wouldn't have imagined before.

So now the next time I'm having an in-depth conversation about explorers - you know, Ponce de Leon, Cortez, Balboa- I can throw in "Moses Gates" with some authority.

Leaving the Slip, I tried to make it back to Scuffletown Park in time to catch live music, but with the sun setting so much earlier now (7:46, where has the summer gone?), I barely made it in time for two songs.

Still, two songs heard from a bench in a pocket park where a turtle lives is better than no songs, so I couldn't complain.

What I could do was eat since I was starved.

I'd just been talking about Dinamo yesterday with an acquaintance, so that was my first thought once it was chow time.

Walking in, most of the tables were filled, including one with Ward from Chop Suey, always a friendly face to see.

Life was good.

I found a seat at the bar, today's New York Times in front of me and happily ordered a glass of Ancora pinot grigio, a classic Italian white.

Breathing in the delicious smells wafting toward me, I read an article about an Italian winery's stunning new facility rising out of a Tuscan hill and marveled at how something so contemporary could so perfectly suit a winery that's been around for 26 generations.

But then, the Italians always had a knack for style.

When my white pizza with anchovies arrived, I tore into it in a most unladylike manner, all the while thinking of my friend Pru who likes to come here for lunch when they only have red pizza on the menu.

I didn't finish the whole thing, despite my hunger, but I did enjoy a relaxing meal with the Cranberries blasting and some terrific whites in front of me.

If only there'd been a stray guy at the bar for me to test my powers of goodness on.

Ah, well. Until then, I smile like I mean it.

Because I do.