This weekend I went to a book store in Brooklyn that was so indie that I was mildly discriminated and passively refused service, being the mainstream person I am. I am being 100% serious.
I thought I was dressed the part but the patrons of said bookstore saw right through my hipster exterior to my mainstream soul.
Aside from their poor service, the book store was lovely. It was a bright and airy store filled with the smell of old used books which they were selling. Someday I will go back when I perfect my hipster disguise.
Anyhow, once my friend and I realized that we were not their target customer, to say the least, we went back to the borough we knew would accept us. We strolled around the farmers market in Union Square Park where we were welcomed with open arms. Not really, but we felt like we were as we sipped on iced mint tea sweetened with maple syrup.
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