I had heard of The Big Gay Ice-cream Truck and their delicious concoctions of the sweet and sour long before I planned my trip to NY - so it was definitely on my list of to-do’s.
It was a beautifully sunny day so I threw on a printed silk skirt, crisp white singlet and massive, chunky, p-diddy-lil-wayne-chris-brown style gold chain and tied my hair back into a little ballet bun.
I strolled into the east village with a spring in my step after getting complimented by a well dressed stylist (who would clearly be my gay best friend had I lived in New York). I found The Big Gay Ice-cream Truck store and got my ‘Salty Pimp’, which was delicious. Could this day get any better?!?
I decided to eat my salty caramel sundae goodness down at the busy park I spotted across the road. So off I go - with the warm wind in my hair and my face firmly engulfed in my sundae - I failed to notice I was walking straight into a red cross soup kitchen filled with the homeless and frail who probably hadn't had a good feed in a week.
With chocolate smeared quite aggressively across my face and my obnoxious gold chain glimmering in the sunshine, I froze and thought to myself...I have never felt more like an asshole in my entire life. And that was it. My over indulgence in consumerisation was over.
Time to go home back to Australia where the creative industry is under appreciated and bagels with bacon and cream cheese are very much underrated.