The first waves of spring slap NYC awake like a shot of espresso to the face. And just like that, the freaks crawl out of their winter shells and flood Washington Square Park. Skaters carving the concrete like it owes them money. Shirtless soccer dudes playing like it’s the World Cup of Testosterone. Photographers lurking like paparazzi in the jungle. Dancers spinning truth on pavement. Smokers exhaling poetry. It’s not a park—it’s a stage. And everyone’s putting on a damn good show.
