It was an exciting evening trip to the UPS distribution center on 43rd st to pick up my cappuccino machine. As I approached the entrance, I noticed a biker locking his bike to a pole. He was cute. I decided to try to chat him up when we got inside.
We all filed into line, eventually giving our tickets to the dispatcher. The place was so new york, I wanted to burst out of my skin. A tiny office in the front area of a humongous warehouse with a stout pot bellied middle aged Italian with a thick new york accent trying to shuffle the wildly diverse patrons through the assembly line as they buzzed with impatience. People were generally civil but after something around 30 years of "Where's my package?", the dispatcher was only marginally interested in anything other then collecting tickets and sending gofers to fetch the corresponding boxes.
I glanced at the good looking biker but didn't have the courage to make eye contact so I grabbed a seat, watched the commotion, watched the tv on the wall, gestured at the deaf patron who couldn't understand the questions the UPS dispatcher was asking of him and in general tried to soak up the moment.
A crazy looking toothless guy would occasionally take to complaining at the crowd at large. He had the jerky body language of a long time cocaine user. He had tattoos all over his emaciated body including a strange tattoo across his throat. I saw the word "cut" and what kind of looked like "throat". Cutthroat? No wonder people were backing away. He yammered at the dispatcher and the other patrons something about waiting for two-and-a-half hours for his package. Everyone including the dispatcher ignored him. He seemed not to notice and carried on about how lucky they were that he isn't a younger man since his younger days would have carried more spit and fire.
I know that the druggy crazy stuff should have put me off more, but you have to feel for a guy who has been waiting for a package for 2.5 hours with someone telling him it will arrive in 10 minutes every 10 minutes for an hour and a half even if he did have "cutthroat" tattooed across his throat. I offered him my sympathize and the next thing I know, he is sitting next to me telling me that he stopped using drugs after he got AIDS 25 years ago. Oh no! Did I ask for this?!
He went on about how the best thing about surving AIDS was seeing his grand kids grow up, how he wished they had told him it would be such a long wait since he needed to get back to finish a job he was doing free of charge for a friend, that he is by profession a general contractor who can build or install any part of a homes interior, about his dad insisting on teaching him everything from carpentry to electrical wiring, how he truly loves his job to the point of perfectionism, loves executing his vision of the perfect finished bathroom and wont take a job were he cant control the outcome, how he learned to play the conga drum and piano while working as a roady for Latin bands.
Then a backroom worker handed me my package. I stood and moved toward the door. Last chance to make contact with the cute biker. Whats this? Whats happening?! I dodge eye contact with hot biker to turn and wish Cutthroat luck with his package. He smiled and returned some pleasantries as I stepped out into the muggy night.
I love new york. Anywhere else, I would have gone to my neighborhood UPS store and sat silently with a bunch of other self absorbed, impatient, college educated white collar drones breaking the silence to sigh loudly about the long wait.....not that theres anything wrong with that............except that it makes for a very uninteresting life.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Wednesday
Since getting my new fridge, I've found that everything feels chilled rather then cold. I bought a refrigerator thermometer that promptly fell apart on me. I carefully reassembled and tucked it in the fridge. In the morning the fridge, cranked to max only registered about 42 degrees on my barely-held-together fridge thermometer. I was right! Before I demand a new fridge, I decide to get another fridge thermometer, one that is still intact, asap and retest.
On Wednesday after work, all I want to do is hit the gym. But no! I need a refrigerator thermometer.
I rush off toward Bed Bath and Beyond in the hopes of getting to the gym at a resonable time.
Starving, I decide to stop along the way at a wholefoods for some vegis. As I frolick in the salad bar among the many isles of colorful foods filling up my little paper box with choice goodies, someone brushed past behind me turning to get a very close look into the food box I'm holding. There's something strangely familiar about my food oggler. I glance in his direction. Is that....? Is that Harrison Ford? No. Another glance as he scurries away like a frightened bunny around the very long and crowded lines leading to the cashiers. Small frame, messy
blondish hair under a white cap, a 60 year old with an earing. Harrison Ford. I stole one more subtle glance simply because I could.
I dodnt know how I should feel about the moment. Having my dinner inspected turns out to be a surprisingly intimate experience. I feel a bit violated and volnerable but at the same time excited. He was so close. So close that I could have touched him. So close I could have torn a piece of clothing off of his body and sold it on ebay. At the same time, I cant help but feel there is something bigger happening here. First Harrison wanted to park in Ginger's spot in Brentwood, now he shows up in midtown manhattan to monitor my diet. Is there a bigger cosmic event slowly building with Harrison Ford as its executor? Eh, whatever. I need a fridge thermometer.
I exit the Wholefoods, shoving sprouts in my mouth as I push forward toward Bed Bath and Beyond.
One blocks later, I'm passing a Best Buy inside of which is a large crowd gathered around.....a lousy band playing covers? Inside the Best Buy?! As I get closer, I see that the lead singer is noticably at least 7 months pregnant. A Preggo rock entertainer?! Eh, whatever. I need a fridge thermometer.
Later, Bed Bath and Beyond trip accomplished, fridge thermometer in hand and heading toward the gym, I decide to pop into the Home Depot wanting to find out what will be the protocol for replacing my fridge if I confirm my fridge temperature suspisions. I hunt down and accost disinterested clerks, one of which tells me "this is a really low end fridge, it doesnt get very cold". I press, the fridge should be cold enough to preserve my food (40 degrees minimum). Otherwise, whats the point of having a fridge?! It turns into such a hassle, I decide to go ahead and request a new fridge on the spot and get it all over with. Thermometer test or no thermometer test! A clerk explains that a fridge must be purchased to leave the floor of the store. erefore, to get my malfunctioning fridge replaced, I need to buy a second fridge and recieve a refund when the first fridge is returned to the store floor 3 days later. Say what?! Can I have something in writing saying I'll get a refund. No. Say what?!!! Eh, whatever. I need a fridge.
So as my day is concluding, I've had my sprouts oggled by an A-list celebrity and am now the proud owner of 2 refirigerators one of which hopefully works. Not bad for a wednesday night.....but the night is still young.
On my way home from the gym at 11pm, streets still crowded with restaurant goers and shoppers, I pass a young man in a wheel chair walking a 3-legged dog. That puts it over the top. I'm callin it a night.
On Wednesday after work, all I want to do is hit the gym. But no! I need a refrigerator thermometer.
I rush off toward Bed Bath and Beyond in the hopes of getting to the gym at a resonable time.
Starving, I decide to stop along the way at a wholefoods for some vegis. As I frolick in the salad bar among the many isles of colorful foods filling up my little paper box with choice goodies, someone brushed past behind me turning to get a very close look into the food box I'm holding. There's something strangely familiar about my food oggler. I glance in his direction. Is that....? Is that Harrison Ford? No. Another glance as he scurries away like a frightened bunny around the very long and crowded lines leading to the cashiers. Small frame, messy
blondish hair under a white cap, a 60 year old with an earing. Harrison Ford. I stole one more subtle glance simply because I could.
I dodnt know how I should feel about the moment. Having my dinner inspected turns out to be a surprisingly intimate experience. I feel a bit violated and volnerable but at the same time excited. He was so close. So close that I could have touched him. So close I could have torn a piece of clothing off of his body and sold it on ebay. At the same time, I cant help but feel there is something bigger happening here. First Harrison wanted to park in Ginger's spot in Brentwood, now he shows up in midtown manhattan to monitor my diet. Is there a bigger cosmic event slowly building with Harrison Ford as its executor? Eh, whatever. I need a fridge thermometer.
I exit the Wholefoods, shoving sprouts in my mouth as I push forward toward Bed Bath and Beyond.
One blocks later, I'm passing a Best Buy inside of which is a large crowd gathered around.....a lousy band playing covers? Inside the Best Buy?! As I get closer, I see that the lead singer is noticably at least 7 months pregnant. A Preggo rock entertainer?! Eh, whatever. I need a fridge thermometer.
Later, Bed Bath and Beyond trip accomplished, fridge thermometer in hand and heading toward the gym, I decide to pop into the Home Depot wanting to find out what will be the protocol for replacing my fridge if I confirm my fridge temperature suspisions. I hunt down and accost disinterested clerks, one of which tells me "this is a really low end fridge, it doesnt get very cold". I press, the fridge should be cold enough to preserve my food (40 degrees minimum). Otherwise, whats the point of having a fridge?! It turns into such a hassle, I decide to go ahead and request a new fridge on the spot and get it all over with. Thermometer test or no thermometer test! A clerk explains that a fridge must be purchased to leave the floor of the store. erefore, to get my malfunctioning fridge replaced, I need to buy a second fridge and recieve a refund when the first fridge is returned to the store floor 3 days later. Say what?! Can I have something in writing saying I'll get a refund. No. Say what?!!! Eh, whatever. I need a fridge.
So as my day is concluding, I've had my sprouts oggled by an A-list celebrity and am now the proud owner of 2 refirigerators one of which hopefully works. Not bad for a wednesday night.....but the night is still young.
On my way home from the gym at 11pm, streets still crowded with restaurant goers and shoppers, I pass a young man in a wheel chair walking a 3-legged dog. That puts it over the top. I'm callin it a night.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)