This happened today. I am the character "Me".
Scene: Starbucks at 42nd Street and 11th Avenue (yes, 11th Avenue exists). Waiting in line for a treat or coffee, I am undecided on just how much sugar I want to ingest. A woman waits at the register while she places her order, and I am standing approximately 3 feet (perhaps the width of 2 people away?) to the right of her. There is no room to wait directly behind her as there is a table there, so the line must form to the right.
Enter: a man (certainly not a GENTLEman) in his 40s with newspaper tucked under his arm and brow furled. He steps in between myself and the woman at the register. I glance over at him.
Man (to Me): You waitin'?
Me: Yes I am.
Man: Welll how am I supposed to know, you're too far away from her. [He then steps to the right of me.]
Me: After being on crowded subways and crowded restaurants, I figured it's nice not to crowd people if you don't need to in this city.
Man: [pregnant pause]
Me: [delighting in his idiocy]
Woman leaves register with her $8 coffee, and I slide over to order at the register.
Man: Well cuz you know you need to be in a line so I actually know it's a line.
Me: Now I know why people from out of town dislike New Yorkers.
And dammit, I've lived here six years and I'm not an asshole, am I? I secretly hoped he burned his mouth on his coffee or it gave him diarrhea.
Monday, May 23, 2005
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