so a few weeks ago at duane reade something rather funny happened. as i was whipping out my club card from the change purse where i keep it, a roach flew out and fell onto the counter. (now, i don't mean a bug.)
and i blushed, and then laughed. the chick laughed too, but didn't say anything. i have three roaches in my change purse and i really don't know why; as a girl who does her hair in a lot of vintage styles you can be sure i always have a bobby pin on my person somewhere. this means that roaches get killed, so to speak. but i still don't feel right throwing them away. hmmm. [ ed. note: haven't been partying too much lately, trying to keep myself in tip-top shape for the thesis.]
the local DR (or the drizzle, as i like to call it [ed. note: do you find that everyone in new york has a personal nickname for duane reade? i do... except i can't remember any of the ones i've heard recently... good story, eh?]) is really one of the biggest loci of small-town culture in new york, strangely enough. (other places i would note would be the bodgea/deli, the bagel cart, local parks, etc.) this is easily explained by the fact that one usually goes to the same one (the one near work/home) at the same time (right after work, right after getting home) on the same days. this means you get to know the staff and they get to know you. depending on the kind of person you are this sometimes has interesting results.
once upon a time on a friday, several months back, i was at my usual DR (98th and broadway) while on my lunch. i had a $5.00 rewards coupon and was looking forward to using it to dull the cost of an "expensive" purchase i had to make. after shopping, i walked up to the couter and set my items down somewhat shame-facedly: one maruchan instant lunch, one giant monster energy drink, and one big box of coloured and flavored condoms. the person at the checkout was a young man who i had conversed with somewhat extensively on an earlier occasion as we had discovered that we lived not far from each other way out in the wilds of brooklyn. hence, i could hardly play stupid and ignore him.
after awkwardly handing him my coupon (while looking at the counter) and then commenting on how expensive some "things" are (while blushing) i tried to make a joke (unsuccessfully) about how the only thing really for myself was the $.99 ramen. of course, all of this only delayed the inevitable; as he handed me my receipt he smirked and yelled after me smarmily, "you have a good night tonight, okay!"
now as i type this i laugh at my embarrassment at buying condoms (forgiveable but childish). it's weird, that kind of duality that exists sometimes. i of course could have made fun of him and his "not-about-to-get-laid" status but that sort of thing never ever occurs to me.
a couple of weeks ago i was walking down 23rd street after a doctors appointment and not really attending to the world around me too closely as i had had a great deal of blood drawn and feeling what some might call "woozy." i, being me, get off on this sort of feeling and would, with the right musical accompaniment, even refer to it as "transcendental." so after having all of this blood drawn and while taking an arduous city hike and observing the world at large while listening to fantastic music, i suddenly had my mind snapped BANG right back into
real reality. i had just walked past a doorway where one of two hobo-ish men had flicked a cigarette butt into the air that flew mere millimeters from my face. i stared behind me in shock, looking back into his equally shocked face as he stammered out an apology. i instantly forgave him because i felt as if, this one time only, it was as much my fault as his; like him, instead of attending to the world around me i also had been staring at what his buddy had been proffering up to him eagerly - something in a dull transparent orange pill container. "hmmm!!!" i had thought, as i looked at their intent and excited faces transfixed upon the bottle, "i wonder what that hobo has in that pill container!"
