Mr. Stevens Is Not Having a Good Day

I love my job for many reasons, but probably the thing I love most is that I get to mess with people just a little bit. There is something to talk about almost every day. Today, there was a lady in the store, with her mother, her husband, and her son. While she was paying (and speaking to me in English,) her mother pushed the button on one of our sound and music plush bears. It started singing and she said, "Hay, que lindo!" (How cute!) I looked at her and said, "Every time someone pushes that button, they say, 'Hay, que lindo!'" She laughed. Just about that time, the son began playing with some wind up toys. His father said, "Oh, that's pretty neat!" To which I shouted, "Hay, que lindo!" The older lady said, "You speak Spanish well." They laughed and left the store.

Yesterday, I said hello to a lady, as I do to most of the customers that walk in the door. There are several that I recognize as being regulars, and sometimes am able to pay particular attention to them. There are others who are apparently regulars, but I don't know them well yet. The lady that I said hi to was one of those. When I said hello and asked her how she was doing, her response was, "Where have you been?" It took me by surprise, because I have been working six or seven days a week for the last several weeks, but simply said that I had been around. I was flattered that she would notice that she hadn't seen me in some time. Honestly, I have no idea when I saw her last. I didn't know she was a "regular."

In most cases, when someone comes to the register, I ask them how they are, if they need anything else, and then, depending on the vibe, I may make a comment--about the weather, about their purchase, or about something I notice. Yesterday, a guy in his early 30's came to the register and I asked him how he was doing. His response? "Don't ask!" I might, normally, make a comment like, "That bad, huh?" or "Weather got you down?" But, this guy appeared to be in no mood, so I didn't ask. And I didn't tell. When he used his credit card, and did it wrong, I really had a dilemma. Should I tell him how to use it right, and risk having him get upset? Or, should I just let him figure it out, and risk having him get upset? Since the outcome of my options were very similar, I decided to tell him how to use the machine. When he swiped his card, I noticed his name was Mr. Stevens. I don't meet many people like him at my store, but I sure hope today was better for him.

One of my favorite customers was a lady just before Christmas. We had boxed Christmas cards on sale for 50% off. She came in, walked right up to the table, and said, "Now, how does this work?" I looked at her blankly for a few beats, then answered, "Well, you buy them, write in them, then mail them. I'm not sure I understand the question." She said, "Which of these cards are fifty percent off?" I said, "Oh!!! All of them!"

Every day, I get a chance to interact with people. Some think I'm crazy (I am, just a little.) Some think I'm fun (I hope I am.) Some come in just to see me and say hi. I love that. I can't wait to see who comes in tomorrow.

Spotlite on...Chris

This month marks the fourth anniversary of talking to Chris. In January 2006, I began chatting with a guy on Yahoo. I had been clean for around a month, when a box popped up on my screen and we began chatting. I admitted to him that his screen name sounded familiar but that I had no idea what we may have talked about previously, as I was high when we talked before. All I knew at that point, was that he was a cutie...and he was initiating the conversation with me. I could only imagine the possibilities as to where this might go.

Chris told me that we had talked before, but to this day, I have no idea what the original conversation was. In January 2006, the conversation went something like this:

"Hey, how are you?" "Wow, this guy is cute!"

"Where are you from?" "Illinois isn't THAT far away, I could meet him."

"What are you up to?" "What do I have to do to get into his pants?"

Yep, and that was after I was sober. I can only imagine what I said when I was smoking. Chris has since told me that one of the things that endeared me to him from the beginning was that I honestly told him I had no recollection of any conversations before January. Apparently, all I had to do was be honest to get into his pants. That, and meet him in person.

When we started talking, Chris was a 19 year-old student at a tiny college in a tiny town in Illinois. We have talked about meeting, both in Illinois and in Columbus. Neither ever actually happened. The closest we have ever been geographically, was just over a year ago when he was in New Jersey for work, and took the ferry into New York City for the Rockefeller Tree lighting. We were less than five miles away from each other, and I never knew it until he had gone back to Illinois.

We have spoken for hours on the phone over the last four years. We talked one night for an hour or two while he was shopping for baking supplies at Walmart. There have been a couple times when it seems his life was falling apart. Nothing bothers me more than not being able to help someone I have come to love. Even tho we have never met...even tho we were hundreds of miles away from each other.

Once again, we talked about meeting for Chris's birthday this year. Unfortunately, his birthday is four days from now, and I am sitting in New Jersey. Maybe next year? The question remains: Where could this internet friendship go? I know that it has been a friendship that has been much more than I would have imagined four years ago.

Public Transportaton is the Best!

I love public transportation in New York and New Jersey. When I moved to NJ, I left my car behind-not entirely voluntarily, but that's a story for another day. I usually use the PATH train to go the 8-15 minute ride into Manhattan, but occasionally I have to go further, to Secaucus or Elizabeth. Those trips on a New Jersey Transit bus can be most interesting, but a trip on the PATH recently, proved almost as entertaining.

I have been asked to go to another store in Elizabeth a couple times a week to help out. Last night, I closed the store and got on the bus along with 60 other people. Single mothers with young kids, mall employees who were exhausted after a day of dealing with the public, and shoppers with their over-sized bags. I ended up standing, and trying to read. I carry the latest issue of Vanity Fair or Details to pass the time. I glanced around the bus. In front of me was a lady with three small children. Over there was a man doing his best to saffron rice out of a disposable container. Beside the lady with the kids, a woman applying lotion. I could smell the lotion and was able to read the green, medicine-bottle-shaped container in her shopping bag. Bath and Body Works "Relaxing Lotion" wasn't doing its job, at least for me. I watched as the lady pulled the pump from the bottle and tried, without success to secure it in the "just bought, sealed bottle" position. She must have tried for a full five minutes to push, turn and lock the pump to no avail.

I turned back to my magazine and began reading. Chicken wings. Saffron rice, relaxing lotion, now chicken wings. Will it stop? The answer, I would learn was no. I realized we were still in the parking lot at the mall. Behind a snaking line of cars all leaving at the same time. This was going to be an all night experience. As it turns out, it was two hours and ten minutes, door to door. Technically, not all night, but I couldn't wait to get home and get into my bed.

My phone beeped with a text message. "Where are you? Will you come into the City for a drink?" It was Ali and this was her last night here for her visit for New Year's Eve. I agreed to meet her and Charity and got up and got dressed. When I got to the subway station, an elderly couple asked how to get to Exchange Place. I told them it was one stop from here, then asked if they were visiting. They said they were from Munich (Germany) and were here to see the ball drop in Times Square. I asked if they made it and they said they had a fabulous experience at Applebee's. They had purchased the package that allowed them to hang out at Applebee's then step outside just before midnight to see the ball drop, then back in until the crowds cleared. I would like to do that some year. I talked to them until we got to Exchange Place and they stepped off the train, wishing me a happy new year. They turned back and waved several times and smiled as they walked away. I like to make people smile.

I got into the City and met up with Ali and Charity. Clearly, they had been there for some time. They introduced the bartender to me, who shook my hand and said, "I've been overserving these girls for quite a while now." This, I already knew. After a couple beers and a couple shots (on my part--I wouldn't dream of guessing what they may have had,) we called it a night. As we left, Ali realized that she hadn't had her sauerkraut for the new year. She and Charity had enjoyed some bacon earlier at brunch, but had not had the sauerkraut required by the tradition. I, on the other hand, had sauerkraut on a Reuben philly earlier in the day, but no pork. I looked at my watch, saw it was 11:45 and we were running out of time. Just before we got to the ubway station we saw a hot dog cart on the corner. We asked, and he had sauerkraut, but the hot dogs weren't pork. He handed us a cup of sauerkraut and bid us a happy new year.

Across the street, three PATH employees were singing with the radio. Charity and Ali heard them and their path diverted. "Do you want some sauerkraut? Sauerkraut! For the New Year!"

First one, then the second finally understood what Ali was asking. "No, I don't eat pork," one said. The other claimed to be a Southerner and ate pork every day. The third was hiding in the construction shed with the door closed.

We moved on and began the decent on the escalator. Two Africans were beside us and Ali again asked if they would like some sauerkraut. The one next to Ali said no, thanks and Ali tried talking him into having some. All the way down the escalator she tried to convince this poor traveler to have some sauerkraut. Just as we reached the bottom, his friend said, "No" and drew his finger across his throat as if to say, "We are done with this conversation--or worse" and they quickly went to the train. I consoled Ali by telling her that they probably had read about people like her in the travel books about New York, and they were probably a little nervous. Don't take it personally.

There are tons of things to do when you visit New York. Public transportation should be at the top of your list.

New Year 2010

The night began simply enough. My sister went to a party at a local restaurant with some friends. Danny, who is Pentecostal, was going to church. He said he would would be there until 1 and then call me. I didn't know what I was going to do, but at the last minute decided to go into the City and document the night. When I told Danny I was going to the City, he decided not to go to church, but to go with me instead. I had mentioned going to Times Square, but in reality, had no intention of going there. I've heard the horror stories.

We took the PATH train to 9th Street in NYC. I was headed to a tiny, hole-in-the-wall gay bar that Charity found recently. Danny made it clear that he was not interested in drinking, and far less interested in going to a gay bar. We turned a corner and found a small Mexican place called Ofrenda, that seemed like it was beckoning us. Me for the bar, and Danny for the "Feliz Ano Nuevo" written in shoe polish on the windows. We went in and ordered a pitcher of Sangria. We ordered some nachos and they arrived promptly with guacamole and frijoles. While we talked and worked on the Sangria, a second helping of nachos arrived with an addition of pickled pork skin. Apparently, this is good luck on New Year's Eve in Brazil. Pickled pork skin isn't bad, especially with black beans and guacamole, but I am glad I don't celebrate the New Year in Brazil every year.

We paid the check and made our way out the door, hailing a taxi bound for Times Square. I said something earlier about going to Times Square for New Year's Eve, but didn't really believe I would be there. The driver let us off at 6th Ave and 39th St. In reality, this is about three blocks south and two blocks east of Times Square, but this was as close as he could get us. We thanked him, got out of the car, and started walking north, only to find that all of the streets were closed. We walked back, and turned this way and that, finally getting to the intersection of 7th Ave and 38th St. At 7th Ave, the street was open and the crowd was pushing, surging this way and that, and over the course of the next 45 minutes, we were able to move 2 blocks north.

Along the way, someone asked if I had matches or a lighter. Right there on 7th Ave, he started smoking a joint. Back and forth it went, while I watched. The guy asked if I wanted a hit, and I said, "Sure!" After all, how many times do you have a chance to smoke a joint on 7th Ave, NYC? Danny glowered at me, so I asked for my lighter back and we continued on our northward push. Moments later, my hat was being pushed. Two of the cutest people were behind me, so I asked, "Do you need a Happy New Year picture?" They said yeah, and two others joined them in the photo. I didn't get names, so good luck Googling that! They are at the top of this page, tho, for posterity. They did say they were from NYC, and when I told them that I had read that Manhattanites HATE NYE, they said they were from Queens, which explains why they were there.

Uh oh, I suddenly realized I had to use the restroom. With the steady surge north, there was no bathroom to be found. When I told Danny, he said, "What about right here?" I looked around and decided the crush of people was thick enough, that perhaps I could get away with it. I kept expecting to feel a tap on my shoulder and cuffs on my wrists, but there was nothing. Five, four, three, two...I'm almost done, and Danny looks up and me and says, "Not on my pants!" None of the other three people near me said anything, so the moral of the story is this: If you have to pee on someone, the person you know might just forgive you!

At the stroke of midnight, the fireworks detonated, and the people cheered, and we followed the people out of the area. The second picture is my best attempt at the D-Day sailor photo that was also taken in Times Square. I would never presume that my picture would win a prize, but here it is for submission. It's the second picture.

Just as we got to 34th St, Danny said he needed to use the bathroom. Begging him to wait, we made our way to a cantina that was open late, paid the $20 cover charge, and had a couple more drinks. We split a burrito and some more chips and guac, then made our way home. All in all, a great New Year's Eve, but it might be several years before I return to Times Square on December 31!

Hoping everyone has the happiest and healthiest of New Years!