Thirty something years ago it was 72 degrees on President's Day. Gerard Murphy and I gathered together a cooler full of ice and Buds (from Coleman's Deli), a cassette radio, many tapes and extra batteries ( just in case).
With provisions we headed for the Met Museum steps and grooved for hours on tunes and pretty girls in the warm winter sun. When the chill of dusk set in we carried the cooler and all else to a friendly Second Ave Mexican restaurant. We ate like piggies, drinking our own left over beers (yes, they let us do that) with our music on just loud enough not to get kicked out.
Best President's Day ever.