A time machine would be pretty dope. Most people think it’d be dope because you could buy Bitcoin for a dollar in 2010 or whatever, but that’s stupid. It would be nice to do a good deed.
For instance, it’s hard not to remember those overeager Parks Department guys assigned to Marcus Garvey Park back in 2006 or so — when it first got renovated into the spot that you know today — and everybody who spent the first half of that decade honing their flatbar skills at Tompkins was there filming feebles until they threw up. Those maintenance dudes used to trip hard when the spot was new. They would give the classic “you’re scratching up the paint, if we see you again, you’re getting a summons”-routine, only to give up a few years later.
Imagine how much stress you could have saved them if you knew the future.
“Look man, fifteen years from now, a young man in Tru Religion jeans with an Element board is going to darkslide around the curve while Natalie Imbruglia’s ‘Torn’ plays in the background. Enjoy these simple times while you got ’em. Don’t fight fate.”
