Life mimics marketing

Let me take a break from brooding to share a little slice of New York randomness with you. I love this city - the produce store with the gray cat that wanders the aisles, which sits lovingly below my apartment on the corner; the highrise across from me with bars on every window on the 18th floor (Spiderman, be warned!); the beach volleyball court in the middle of Central Park; the lobby of the natural history museum, with the physically impossible display of a sauropod skeleton rearing up on its hind legs to defend her young from an allosaurus attack; the free Wi-Fi in the parks; and even the eerily smart city-bred children (one of them asked her mother this morning "why is the prostitute working when it's light out?" - so cute). Every day, I wake up, knowing only some of what will happen before my very eyes. It's exhilarating. And it's why I could never live in the 'burbs.

But on with the anecdote! It was a late Sunday evening, and I was in midtown, around 53rd Street, at Oxford Cafe, the deli. They were closing, but I was undeterred. So I walked up to the counter, and there before me was a slew, nay, a sea of sandwiches, panini's, quesadillas, and salad ingredients. I was dumbfounded. What do I order? I stood there, and the looming micro-kiloton nuclear test in Korea, President Bush "the decider"'s failure to decide what to do about ten different pressing matters, my headache, and the fact that Imogen Heap has (still!) yet to reply to my open letter (see my September 15th post) faded away. I was about to leap past two billion people on this crazy rock called Earth and join the ranks of the well-fed. And there were options. How do I choose?

Suddenly, I realized that a very kind-looking store attendant (owner?) and a man who might have been her husband were standing in front of me, just past the warm glow of the food display. I apologized, and quickly ordered a chicken parmigiana panini, which the woman began to prepare. As we stood there silently staring at each other, a commercial began to play on the radio. It went something like this:

(upbeat piano licks and steady, 80's-style rock anthem drumming)
"Bud light presents, Real Men of Genius (Def Leopardish singer repeats: Real men of genius)
Today we solute you, Mr. Indecisive Food Orderer Guy (Mr. Indecisive Food Orderer Guy!)
You approach a menu like a CPA approaches an audit
There's not an appetizer, entree, or ingredient that escapes your scrutiny (what's the soup de jure?)
Carpaccio or calamari, halibut or ceviche, these are incredibly important decisions that need to be made, sometime before sunrise (cockadoodledoo!)
No matter, because when the food finally arrives,
You spend the entire dinner wishing you got what everybody else did (I got entree envy)
So crack open an iced cold Bud Light, Mr. Indecisive Food Orderer Guy,
Because today's special, is You (Mr. Indecisive Food Orderer Guy)."

She smiles knowingly, and I nod my head in repentance. And even though we're from completely different worlds, and our paths may never cross again, for that one moment, we get each other.

Too bad I don't drink.

Vaya con Dios - brooding presence