Birdcage backpack

I should have known today was going to suck when I got to work and discovered Pluto was no longer a planet. Then, I went to my massage appointment, and lo and behold, Joe (who is looking more and more like Tony Danza in my mind) was working out of the “other” office, and, in fact, only works out of the “other” office now, and, helpfully, no one thought to tell me this. I had no choice but to walk to Jamba Juice and order the most fattening thing on the menu (the peanut butter moo’d), while examining the sky for impending signs of ruining both the company softball game and The Warriors at Brooklyn Bridge park tonight.
As I sat on the subway on my way back downtown, I wished that I was new enough to New York for it to still be magical to me...there was something, even about the subway, that always seemed unique and interesting before I moved here and shortly after. As I walked back to the office I heard a chirping noise coming up behind me. And then, as the guy behind me passed me on the sidewalk, I saw it:

He had a birdcage backpack. How freaking cool is that. I quickly pulled out the ol' cameraphone and followed him across the street. As excited as I was, this guy was clearly used to walking around this way. The novelty of having a cockatiel on his back, apparently, had worn off.