Most awnings in this city, while serving a practical purpose, grate on my nerves like sandpaper. Little to no thought is put into design; it's like someone took a scissors to the Barnum & Bailey tent and ran off with it, sticking the flapping monstrosities into the cement with rickety poles that look like they belong on a campground rather than the sidewalks of Manhattan. Such affronts to innocent, historic buildings are many, and unfortunately with my number-spotting obsession, the awning eyesores are hard to ignore. But every now and then, I'll stop in my tracks to note a happy exception. This clean sans serif number, carved into galvanized steel and fixed to the sides of a cherry red awning, is one.