Regina Spektor's a little bit of a weirdo, eh? She was just making dolphin sounds on this here album I'm listening to. I think I like her. Plus, she resembles Mel from The Flight of the Conchords, and my brain delights in this connection. Oh the possibilities.Who wants to hear a random "Only in New York" story?! Me too! So I am currently job seeking (ugh I can't wait to be paid for being Kassie Cardon) and awaiting classes to start at the studio, so I have plenty of time to walk a mile round trip for a Popeye's lunch every once in a while! Those $1.50 chicken wraps are a steal, I tell you, a steal! So I'm standing third in line, excited to purchase my delicious and economical lunch when a crazy lady comes up to me from behind and to the left. Her teeth and hygiene reminded me of this lady I have featured to the right here, Ms. Winehouse. The aging woman came up to maybe my left bicep. She was, let's be honest, most likely Dominican in nature, and had long, windswept hair which had been pulled back in a ponytail. I think. I only got a good look at her face, as I stared at it in disbelief for the majority of our relationship.
"Huh?" She had demanded something of me, but I couldn't hear her over my iPod. And these are the words she spake, hand to heaven, with the authority of a mother and the entitlement of Paris Hilton: "Buy me something to eat! I'm hungry." Me: "Wha?" She repeats it, this time with impatience. "Buy me something to eat! I'm hungry!" I stared at her in disbelief. Little beady eyeballs to wide shell-shocked eyeballs. The words had stunned my brain. And I'm not gonna lie, the feelings that ended up surfacing were not ones of anger or defensiveness or annoyance. They were 70% guilt (of course) and 30% unadulterated awe. Some emotion in the respect family. This tiny woman just demanded food and/or money from me, a humongous Amazon of a white chick! I was fascinated by her. Her teeth were rotting I believe, you know, brown in the middle and more cylindrical than they should be. She was angry at me for being me. She made me feel like I had shirked some responsibility for too long, and that this directly affected her, and now was the time I was to make up for it. She made me feel like draft dodgers must have felt when they got caught. She was hungry. Her son was dying in Vietnam. And this was completely my fault.
My reaction?
"Um, ok. Well, what do you want?" I ended up just giving her a couple of bucks because we disagreed on taste. (I was willing to hook her up with one of my wraps, whilst she wanted a fancy $6.00+ value meal.) She was gone quicker than you can say "crack pipe". In-credible. Wow. That woman OWNED me.
I'm not sure if I should feel ashamed of this character flaw. Surely some sort of self preservation survival instinct should have kicked in. I might as well have had "Welcome" written across my chest and been laid at the entrance to her cardboard box. Honestly, though, I feel that she earned it. The delivery of her request alone was worth at least a biscuit.
I know what some of you are thinking. Future Kassie: "Gee, husband of mine, that slug in the face really hurt, but golly, the way your arm swung across your chest, the position of your fist, your form was PERFECT! Bravo!" I'm pretty positive this won't happen. Right? Hm. Maybe I should adjust some more brain wires.
Only in New York.
Holler back!
