I've seen a lot of things in NYC. I've babysat world-renowned fashion designers. I've worn the engagement ring of one of the world's richest swimsuit models. I've dug through a high rise garbage dumpster in search of an accidentally discarded loaned rent check.

I've been in the presence of two real Queens (royalty) and I've met queens of the lower east side. I've met a King of the Hollywood Box Office.

But today. Today I may have seen it all. I was walking down the street mid-day, when I caught the side view of a very familiar looking man in a heated discussion on a pay phone. I actually stopped in my tracks, blinking twice to understand what I was seeing.

In front of me, was a Michael Jackson impersonator, wearing the exact outfit from that famous shot with the monkey. Black suit, red shirt, white face (caked with white make-up), black wavy hair extensions, white gloves on hands, and WEARING A WHITE SURGICAL MASK.

In broad daylight. I can't even make this shit up. Only the voice gave him away, because he was yelling at someone in a masculine voice.

I had a flashback to my first concert. I was 10 or 11 and my parents took me into the meet-and-greet pre-show. I guess there were 30 people there. The only people Michael would meet were the children, so my parents kept pushing me toward him but he freaked me out and I refused to meet him.

I was such a precocious child. I mean, he wasn't even half the freak then that he is now. I think this was even before Thriller. It was during the "Billy Jean" days but I swear, I thought something was just strange about him, even at 10.

I half wanted to confront the impersonator demon, but then I thought about all the work he must put into being MJ, and frankly, that may be even more freaky than the real thing, so I just kept walking.

NYC. Our slogan should be "Give us your tired, your poor and your freaks."

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