Once upon a time. Things being what they are. I portaled to West 38th Street Manhattan. This on a much less smoky day in October 1953. I wore a 21st century Space Force sweatshirt shirt, and Vietnam veteran’s cap. I wear that for my brother.

No one noticed. I love NY.

What strikes are the smells. Car exhausts soot from light industry dog poop, and a thick background radiation of cigarette smoke. In them technicolor days everyone smoked like a forest fire.

I weaved onto the street taking the snap above. Almost hit by a '49 Chevy delivery van. Guy yelled ethnic slurs at me. I would have taken his portrait but didn’t want to start a race riot. America, I'd know her anywhere. I stumbled to a news stand. Asked for “Fantastic Four” No.1 …guy never heard of it. I was about a decade early.

So I got a Hershey bar which was five cents and twice the size as ours. I went into a phone booth. Revealed my secret identity of temporal slider. Shifted phased or whatever back to the angry smoky, and expensive future.