When I Realized I Wasn't Tough Enough for NYC - Pt. 2

I started this story yesterday.  You might want to catch up so you can follow along.





All I wanted was a grilled cheese sandwich.

I came out of the subway station and found that the downpour was still going on.  I fought the rushing water to get back up the stairs and headed for the disgusting grocery store.



Inside it was packed.  No one wanted to go out for dinner or wait to have it delivered that night.  I grabbed the last loaf of bread and got on the long line.



By now I was tired and cold and still wet.  I just wanted to go home.  I should have just gone home, but damn it, I really wanted that grilled cheese sandwich so I held on.  I stood online and shuffled forward like a zombie every few minutes.  I was getting close to the register now and I didn't have much longer to wait.  The end was near.  I was so ready to get out of there when suddenly . . .



I was attacked.



"Son of a bitch!" the man behind me yelled as he knocked the loaf of bread from my hands.



"What?!  Are you crazy?" I screamed as he stomped the living shit out of my loaf of Wonderbread.  My grilled cheese sandwich!!  "What are you doing?  That's the last loaf, you asshole!"



He stopped and said to me, "Lady, you're lucky I did that.  There was a mouse in there.  I could see it through the plastic bag.  You would not have been very happy to get home and find that thing in there."



A mouse.  In my loaf of fucking bread.  I stared at the demolished loaf of bread and the dead mouse.



I imagined getting back to my apartment, taking my shower, putting on my cozy jammies and getting my new loaf of bread out, opening the twisty tie, reaching in and grabbing a . . . mouse!!!!!



I almost threw up just thinking about it.  Instead, I just burst into tears.



"Hey lady, relax.  It's just a mouse.  It's no big deal.  You're welcome."



I kept crying.  "Jeez.  Go get another loaf.  I'll save your place," the guy offered.



"I don't want another loaf of bread from this shit hole.  Besides, that was the last one.  I just want to go to home," I sobbed.



"OK, then go home," he said.



"I want to go home to Kansas," I said.  He looked at me like I was insane.



I wanted to say, "Listen, I fell down the stairs in a monsoon and got all wet and gross, a crazy homeless man exposed his penis to me on the subway and now there's a mouse in my loaf of bread.  The universe is sending me a message. I've done my time.  I've given it a whirl.  I'm cooked.  It's time to call it a day."



I left the store and walked slowly through the rain back to my apartment (even when I'm upset I don't run and besides, what would be the point - I was already soaked) crying the whole way.  When I got back I called my mom and dad and said, "I want to come home."



There were ecstatic.  They probably booked me a plane ticket that night.  I don't really remember.



I got cleaned up and went to bed.  I woke up the next morning and the sun was up and the sky was clear.  The roads and sidewalks were clean - New York always looks better after a hard rain to wash away all the grime.  The night before was a distant memory.  I decided I wasn't cooked yet.  I got dressed for work and called my mom again, "I'm staying," I told her.



God bless her, she tried to sound upbeat, "Oh.  OK, sweetie.  Well, just let us know if you need anything."



"A grilled cheese sandwich would be great," I replied.



I ended up staying in New York for another year or so and I never had another day like that one ever again.



This horrible day doesn't even remotely compare to the horrible days all of the victims from Sandy are enduring.  Please continue to remember them and if you can donate to help them.