The author, demonstrating the elusive Rapidestrian Warm-Up Ritual

The Rapidestrian, or “Speedwalker”
GROUPING TERM: Embarrassment
As in, “An Embarrassment of Speedwalkers”

First thought extinct in the 1980s due to over-shaming, scientists from the Rapidestrian Preservation Society recently got close enough to tag one by offering it lecture tickets to the Ethical Culture Society.

Rapidestrians are solitary creatures known for their slick Lycra pelts and the ability to achieve speeds up to an astonishing 10 m.p.h. If you see one, it’s best to snap a photo as quickly as possible and then back off, or prepare to face a mob charging toward you at a very sensible and aerobically healthy speed.

Joggernauts
GROUPING TERM: Nuisance
As in, “a Nuisance of Joggernauts”

Like ants, Joggernauts live in large colonies — called Nuisances — which are divided by a
hierarchy of power and labor. The colony’s drones scout for food at Zabar’s, while the workers build relationships at North Face for $200 discounts on sneakers. The colony’s Queen jogs several feet ahead, and is recognizable by its bloated, enormous calfs and forced zest for life. If you’re looking to spot a Nuisance, listen for its clarion call of, “We’re doing this, people!”

Joggernauts have extremely poor eyesight, and perceive our world mostly through shouting, much of which revolves around which private school the individual joggernauts’ children are attending or where to find the best “help” for one’s summer home. Scientists have theorized that this shouting is a kind of rudimentary echo-location. The indigenous peoples of the island, however, believe the Joggernauts are really just huge assholes.

Pedicrabs
GROUPING TERM: Clusterfuck
As in, “a Clusterfuck of Pedicrabs”

Part of a symbiotic relationship with the subway, the Pedicrab is one of the few Central Park animals that provides a useful service. These three-wheeled apex predators spend most of their time hunting for their favorite meal, Tourist Giganticus. Once lured closely enough, the Pedicrab’s hindquarters, which merely appear to offer a comfortable seat and an affordable ride, envelope the Tourists like an amoeba and slowly dissolve the contents of their wallets, which otherwise would have been used for third row seats at “Mamma Mia.” The Tourists, now empty shells, are then excreted into the open park, where they are usually recycled, then absorbed into over-priced restaurants like Tavern on the Green.

Frisbeeings
GROUPING TERM: Jamband
As in, “a Jamband of Frisbeeings”

Frisbeeings are found in only one location in Central Park, the Great Lawn, where they can be seen communicating by exchanging the scent-coded disks for which they are named, the Frisbee.*

Notable for the distinct flip-flop noise made by their padded hooves, these frizzy-haired beasts subsist on a diet of hemp and organic tortilla chips. Though docile by nature, Frisbeeings are very protective of their “mellow,” the normal semi-awake state within which they nearly function, and can be riled up if this mellow is disturbed, or “harshed.”

If a mellow is excessively harshed, their metabolisms can steeply accelerate until actual consciousness is reached, which sometimes results in entire jambands of Frisbeeings becoming temporarily politically active. If you’ve ever seen the “Cuban Marijuana People’s UFO Party” listed on a ballot, chances are someone recently harshed a Frisbeeing’s mellow, forcing him into a doomed attempt at public service.

Cyclists
GROUPING TERM: Vicious
As in, “a Vicious of Cyclists”

Cyclists are brunch-turnal feeders, so be especially careful on Saturdays and Sundays from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. They are largely hairless, protected by a chitinous BMX helmet, and sport a thick, pervasive coating of ultra-thin Spandex. You must remain alert if large numbers of Cyclists are passing by. Their cry is one of the most feared in the park, for by the time you hear an “On your left!” split the silence, it may be too late to avoid being struck. At that point, it’s only a matter of time before a Pedicrab gets you.
We hope you enjoyed this informative guide to the self-satisfied inhabitants of Central Park. You should feel no rush to visit the park in person, however, since sadly, none of the creatures described are endangered, and most of them will surely outlive us all.

[ * From the Latin phrase “fris” meaning “it is cool,” and “bee” meaning “bro.” ]

Sean Crespo is a writer/performer for Daily Show co-creator Lizz Winstead’s “Wake Up World” stage show, and his web series “No Prior Knowledge” appears every Thursday at Bravo’s Television Without Pity. Visit his home site @ www.drinkatwork.com