Friday, July 2, 2010

day 4 of my excellent adventure

Claire and I went to the Chelsea Market while Nate stayed home with Norah, because he is a gentleman and a scholar. We ate breakfast and got some sourdough at Amy's Bread, and I know you guys will scoff, but I really do promise you that it was not as good as Crumb Brothers. It was too mild. Then we went to a little Italian food store where I got the raddest pasta that looks like baby mushrooms! Plus they had, I am not lying to you, a gallon-sized bucket of Nutella. It cost eighty dollars and had a carrying handle. I am disproportionately enchanted by grocery stores, so places like Kalustyan's, Russ & Daughters, this little Italian place, Fairway, Citarella . . . they are like the crack cocaine for me. I could (and did) spend hours walking up and down the aisles, ogling the merch.

For a minute we attempted to go to the Union Square greenmarket, but were disgruntled by all the street vendors, none of whom were selling matryoshka dolls, and gave up. Then Claire went home to feed Norah while I did some shopping at Loehmann's. I loves a discount store. After lunch Claire and I shopped some more, then went home to get ready for Wicked (the musical).
I've discussed this before with many of you, but I think something broke inside my brain when I read Wicked (the book). Because I never had an attachment to original recipe Oz, Maguire's dystopian interpretation of it totally replaced Baum's version, and I can never think of it the same way again. It's so sad, and the characters are so cowardly and greedy and self-defeating and cruel. I have a show tunes channel on Pandora (don't judge), and even though I hadn't seen the musical, every time it played "Defying Gravity" and "I'm Not That Girl" I would just cry and cry (don't judge), because I knew that everyone was doomed. Ugh. It was awful.

So I was relieved when Wicked (the musical) ended fairly happily, trite and veneer-like though the happy ending was. It was a sop, but I was grateful all the same. Also, it was a very enjoyable show, and I liked it more than I thought I would. It lacks the heft of Les Miserables, but it's not pure fluff like Phantom, either.
On our way home we stopped at Fairway to get some crackers and salmon and cheese for Sunday dinner, and man, the cheesemonger was so ready to go home. He was the rudest cheesemonger I've ever met. Usually they're very pleasant and willing to emotionally invest in helping you find the right cheese for your purpose, but this guy was like, "Oh. You want to taste it . . ." like I'm a huge pain in his behind for even asking, like, it's your job, dink. But I got a delicious cheese all the same. So there.

So he was rude, and then there was a guy at the Chelsea Market who snapped at me when I walked past him to use the bathroom, "It's called a line!" And I said, "Yeah, but these are all empty . . ." He was just standing there, and hadn't bothered to even check if the bathrooms were busy. Here is a life lesson . . . we have a neighbor who is the same way. He throws a giant fit every irrigation day, because he's sure someone is taking his water, which they never are. But because he always goes up and turns on the water when it isn't his turn, he assumes that everyone else is like him, and is just looking for an opportunity to cheat him. Bathroom line guy was the same way. He's for sure and certain a queue-barger, and thinks everybody else is one too.

These were the only rude people I met in New York, but my cab driver after my failed Sunday flight thinks it's because I was staying on the Upper West Side. Maybe so, but during my stay Claire and Norah and I walked through a variety of neighborhoods, many of them not great, and people were unfailingly polite to us. I guess we must be really pretty or something.


Claire said...

Yeah, we are pretty. We live in a bubble.