For the late-sleepers in the house, our in-house Astronomy and Astrology in Manhattan Specialist files his account of the astounding astronomical sight you missed this morning. Yes! A tiny black dot, supposedly something called "Venus," was spotted passing in front of the sun, for the first time since 1882. Whirrr.

This morning I got up at 6am and — like the true nerd-boy I really am — I went up on my roof with a pair of binoculars and two sheets of cardboard with holes cut out, just like they told me to do on the internet.

Problem: NY has tall buildings which block the rising sun. I should have thought of that earlier. So, I go to Union Square Park, with 1/2 hour left to see what has not been seen by anyone alive.

Problem: Only one spot has sun, in the middle of a garden, near a big boulder, but with an inviting path leading right to that rock. In the interest of science, I step over the little fence, walk down the pretty rock path and settle on the boulder. In fact, it seems right to be viewing this natural event in the middle of a mini-woods, rather than on a building roof, or park-bench. Very "Age of Aquarius."

I try to focus the binoculars, awkwardly trying to hold two pieces of white cardboard still, in the wind, at the same time, and then bammo: Transit of Venus. There she is. Unreal! Very, very cool. Some French guy spent 5 years of his life, last go round, sailing across the world, to try to see this, only to face cloudy skies. Ronald Reagan lived 93 years and did not even have the _chance_ to see a Transit, had he wanted to see one. And there she is, right in Greenwich Village.

So, I watch contentedly for 20 minutes, getting a few strange looks (the small price we junior astronomers pay). Very nice. Then, suddenly, I hear this old lady's voice coming from 14th Street. I think she wants a look, etc., but NOOOO, this is NYC. She starts giving me a really hard time about sitting peacefully in the garden. I can't believe it. I tell her I am viewing the Transit, that this has not happened for over a century, that it ends in 5 minutes, but she just gives me this puzzled look and continues to kvetch. She won't stop. I tell her to leave me in peace, which she does — heading straight to a park ranger to turn me in.

By that time its 7:30 and the Transit is really over. The park ranger apologizes, tells me in a kind of approving way she knows what I am doing, but she nonetheless directs me to leave my boulder. Which I do. I won't need that boulder for another eight years, when the next Transit (they come in pairs) returns.

Anyway, a nice morning in the Universe, with a little NYC attitude thrown in for measure.