Omphalos, or all the world's a navel

There's something terribly beautiful about a hurrricane from far, far above, which is the best place to be when a 5 shows up:

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Weekend eating: Friday) the nachos with chorizo at Noche Mexico, Amsterdam & 102nd, are extraordinarily good; and Saturday) the spicy seafood fried rice at Joya at Court & Spark (or whatever) is also really tasty, and their pad thai is better than average. Sit outside in the back, else the stupid music will prevent you from hearing your charming companions.
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Five women from the Detroit area were looking lost, so I asked them where they were going. They wanted to go to Brooklyn for pizza and beer. Grimaldi’s, I asked? Yes! They hadn’t found it on the Food Network’s website…. On the train, they talked about enemas and shitting in the woods. So much for Midwestern stereotypes. At the Borough Hall station, I pointed the way. It had just started to rain, and they all pulled black plastic bags onto their heads. It was the weirdest sight. Onward, Tiger’s fans.
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Very cute: A little rain-booted girl hailing a cab with her mother. Not as cute: two tow-headed boys in suits and ties with their mommy and daddy at Starbucks (which I slipped into to pee; I’m pretty sure there’s a direction connection between the loo there and their coffee), showing the lamentable devolution of our preppie overclass.