From 1986, when I left California to move back East after my brother's death, to 1995, eight years later, I had walked past Billy’s a thousand times on the way from my office at 42^nd Street to the McBurney Y on 23^rd. One Saturday afternoon that summer, when I knew I’d soon be leaving New York for California once again, I was carrying my hungry, fussy baby down Sixth Avenue. She couldn’t wait, she was crying, where could I nurse her? I realized I was passing Billy’s and I ducked into the doorway. After nine months of breastfeeding, I was not modest in the face of a minor crisis and a perfect opportunity.  I lifted up my shirt, and put her to my breast. People were passing, oblivious. But a few people did a double take, noticing the “Topless” sign, and we conspired to laugh as they walked on by.