An Open Letter to the Person Who Plays Bagpipes in McCarren Park

An Open Letter to the Person Who Plays Bagpipes in McCarren Park:

YOU. RULE.

I don't know whether you are a man or woman, nor can I attempt to estimate your age. You always seem to hide out behind the bathrooms, in the dark, but I never fail to hear you from blocks away.

I remember the first time I heard you playing, a little over a year ago. I though that there must be some weird ceremony going on, since I was new to the area, and of course no one would just be playing bagpipes randomly in a park for fun. I quickly realized that there was no event or ceremony, and the second and third times I heard the high-pitched music I realized that you must be practicing.

You are an inspiration. The balls you must have! To play an instrument so easy to make fun of! In public! And it's LOUD! Your passion is enormously admirable. Only passion can drive a person to do such an act repeatedly. Or money. But how much money can you get for playing the bagpipes? If it's over 80 grand a year, can you contact me please? I can learn.

My bias toward the Scotsmen have nothing to do with this. It's nothing but a pure joy when I'm walking home from the Bedford stop after work and I hear those pipes. Such a break it is from the formal, stressful drone of working in Midtown.

You, sir or ma'am, make me feel like I should get off my ass and pursue more things that I'm passionate about, no matter how ridiculous they are.

PLAY ON, MY FRIEND!