Crazy things happen in New York City. I mean... cray. This month alone, we've encountered a naked man in a box, heard unfortunate stories of a mass cricket-release on the F train and enjoyed a mid-sidewalk serenade by Pink Santa (because you know.. September..........).

All alarmingly normal incidences to the average New Yorker. 

So when we took to the streets with pancake tutus and a (seemingly) intrusive wish list of shots, we knew these un-phased pedestrians would prove the perfect audience for a day galavanting with the talented, Caitlin Olson. 

And galavant we did. Whipped by the wind of a passing train, tangled in the rungs of a well-placed fire escape,  dangling gracefully above the concrete landing pad below. 

We took to these activities with boundless, carefree joy. Basking in the emancipating comfort that comes when no one's watching. Be it barren platform or busy street—we danced our hearts out, knowing the security of this city's unspoken agreement. Passionate performance or peculiar scene, only few will bat an eye.