I was on 72nd Street in the middle of a heated conversation about dating with a very pretty blonde mom from P.S. 87 when a raggedy-looking, middle-aged black man leaned in and said, "Excuse me."

"I'm sorry I don't have any change," I said.

Now he said, "EXCUSE ME?"

I instantly realized my gaffe. Brotherman had on a frayed baseball cap under his dark hoodie. I apologized and he asked where some local theater was and the mom knew and told him and off he went. The mom and I shared a look.

"I'm very glad it was me that said it instead of you," I said.

When she left I wanted to follow the man into the theater, track him down and buy him a drink. Laugh with him about the working black man's burden. My kids, however, were tugging on my leg to go home. I left but keep wondering what the man is thinking. Is he hating me still? Is he vowing to dress less bummy, even when it's cold?

I love New York City.