August 15, 2008

ballad of a girl and her sandwich

It occured to me that the large cardboard box that has taken up about two square feet or residence in my bedroom is still full of blank tshirts. Also, after Saturday I will no longer be allowed to print at SVA. Thus, I spent the afternoon printing away.
So. Many. Shirts.

Lately, I've noticed a pattern of waking up to gorgeous weather only to be startled by incredible rain clouds and torrential downpours that catch me off guard and of course I never have an umbrella.

I ran out from the print labs into the storm. After being in there for hours on end, I needed sustenance. Either the Pita City down the block or some deli. I chose the deli since I knew they would have egg salad and I have been on a consistent egg salad craving for the past two weeks. Why, I don't know. It's a problem.

I run into the Champignon deli on 7th with my hands up as a visor so as to avoid raccoon eye- effect from the rain. My bangs plastered to my face, the deli owner smiles and chuckles a bit. I take an exorbitantly long time weighing my menu options. Not eating meat is ok. Not eating cheese is difficult. Because all vegetarian sandwiches have cheese in them. I don't know what that's about. Ugh. My options are limited.
As I order an egg salad sandwich anyway (Why do I always think I'm going to change my mind when I never do), a man with some untraceable foreign accents orders a sandwich next to me. I wait at the register, eyeing the muffin selection.
The man says quietly, "You are beautiful, do you know that?"
Since there is no one else there aside from me and the deli guy, and I can see from the corner of my eye that he is facing me I can only assume he is talking to me. But since I'd rather not have to talk to anyone while I am visibly uncomfortably wet and gross, I say instead, "I'm sorry, what?"
He repeats himself. I don't like the way he is staring.
"Oh ok. Um thaanks," I say and laugh nervously and turn towards the register to pay.


And then I run away with my sandwich. Story of my life.