Hey David Blaine, any chance you're a middle child?

Know how when you turn a corner sometimes and there's a man suspended in a gyroscope three stories above the street? It pretty much solves your problem about what you'll be doing on Thanksgiving afternoon.

After what I'd like to call "Everyone in my life dropped the ball on me except David Blaine," I was alone for Thanksgiving. No turkey (nor tofurkey), no family, no nothing. I was stomping around the city, muttering to myself about my stupid friends who had family in the tri-state area, when who should appear before me like a vertigo-inducing mirage: The Harry Houdini of our generation. Apparently he was doing some stunt for Target where he spun for two days, then tried to escape so he could take 100 little Oliver Twists on a shopping spree.

I was hooked, mostly because I couldn't get down the street because of the crowd. It had it all: charity, my favorite store, my love of gyroscopes. Unfortunately, it did not have any suspense. I mean, he wasn't even holding his breath this go around. Also, they gave him a key to unlock himself, which I'm pretty sure takes the mystery out of it. Gob Bluth couldn't have messed it up at that point. Basically, he just unlocked himself then jumped down. People kept pushing past me; they couldn't leave fast enough. In the distance I think I heard a child cry, "You sir are no David Copperfield!"

So we'll consider this the second-greatest time I saw David Blaine, following the much-publicized "Blaine in an Underwater Bubble" experiment in May. There wasn't much to see that time until his skin began falling off. When you need an audience to see you so much that you're willing to waterlog your epidermis, people start to assume you weren't hugged enough as a kid.

I figure I'm averaging seeing him pop up randomly every six months. Sadly, I missed him in the block of ice in Times Square. But I'm looking forward to clearing my schedule for whatever's next for this attention-deprived man. Locked in a box of bees? Flying a kite in a lightning storm? Wresting a bear to the death on the Brooklyn Bridge? A door-to-door survival challenge through the South Bronx?

Whatever it is, David Blaine, know that New York cannot get enough of you and your need to create huge traffic jams while everyone gawks at you.