Where the environmentally conscious protesters at Occupy Wall Street are recycling and reusing signs.

Where on Yom Kippur at the Occupy Wall Street Protest a dozen drummers throb their beat as a woman in strappy black heels and a tight skirt dances an angry, sexy pantomime, her many shopping bags from Fendi, J. Crew, Chanel, Tiffany, Bloomingdale's, and Victoria's Secret swirling around her like Scheherazade's veils and the sax player shifts into Tevye's riff, "all day long I'd biddy-biddy-bum, if I were..."

Where in eighth period Communication and Theater class six seventh graders drop dead—comically, tragically, horrifically, fantastically and romantically—from eating invisible eggs.

Where a large man in a Bishop's Island sweatshirt plays his music at top volume through his phone without headphones so that everyone on the downtown 3 express train can hear "I want you to turn me on baby baby" in a too-high tinny treble.

Where at Super Soccer Stars coach Justin does not give three year old Phoebe her stickers and her nanny says "I'm very disappointed in you" and Benjamin's mother says to Benjamin, "We can't go to Phoebe's house now because she had bad behavior" and then, to Phoebe, "You ruined my whole day" and Phoebe just stands by the wall of smiling Super Soccer Stars looking at her feet.

Where, after eating pretzels and M&Ms, the little boy's breath smells exactly like play-doh.

Where the mechanical band inside the central park carousel seems to be playing a dirge-like version of "I Fall to Pieces."