|
|
Index Previous Letter
Next Letter
On Trojan and Grecian
"For some visitors, their special "New York moment" comes when they spot a street or building made familiar by movies or television, from An Affair to Remember, Friends, or Seinfeld. At the Empire State Building, who can help but remember King Kong's pathetically courageous swing from its pinnacle? Or at the brooding Dakota, the chilling destiny created for Rosemary's baby within those fortresslike walls?"
New York moments generally involve incidents that are aggressive, confronting, but tempered with a dash of humour. There's no mistaking them when they happen to you, or recognizing them when they are related to you by someone else. I had one yesterday when I went to the local pharmacy to buy some shampoo. Lining myself up in the queue that held least customers, I assumed my wait time would be short. After all, there was only one person in front of me and he was holding nothing in his hands. Surely I'd be out of the place in a New York minute. But no. I was about to be part of a New York moment. "I'll have a packet of condoms", the customer at the head of the line asked the assistant, pointing to the rows of Trojans behind her. The assistant was on the phone, talking to her friend, and was clearly annoyed to be interrupted. She gave a New York sigh, and told her friend, "Like you'll just have to wait till like I can like call back". Her attention span was obviously somewhat less than a New York minute, so she asked her customer to repeat himself. "I'll have a packet of condoms", he repeated. "What?" she asked. Surely she's heard of such things I was thinking to myself, as she asked him to speak up. Undeterred and unembarrassed, the customer increased his already loud New York voice by several decibels. "Condoms!!!" he yelled. And then the moment began in earnest. She asked the size. His New York confidence visibly decreased. "Doesn't one size fit all?" he inquired. "I don't THINK so", said the girl, looking longingly at the phone and obviously annoyed at this man who was keeping her from her social life. "Well are you medium or large, they don't come in small?" The line of customers was growing by the New York minute, but the conversation held our attention. "Medium then", came his answer. "What???" She replied. And so on and on it went. Eventually the size was established. I edged New York style, towards what I innocently expected would be soon a vacant place at the counter. But it was not to be. Apparently determined to prolong the moment, instead of accepting the proffered bag containing the medium condoms, the man decided to ask about the price. How many were in the packet? She had to get them out of the bag to look. Then she had to squint at the box, turn it around several times as if she'd never seen such an object, until she found out. Can I see the other boxes? By this stage the attention-span-challenged assistant had forgotten from where she'd gotten the box. The customer pointed behind her. I sighed. Loudly. I missed the outcome of the quantity discussion, but obviously some agreement was reached, because as I looked up out of my reverie I saw her hand him the bag. Again I moved forward as New Yorkers do. My turn. But it was not to be. This was obviously going to be a LONG New York moment. Peering into the bag, the man was clearly not a happy camper. "I don't want THESE!" he yelled. I need extra strength. Round two. Or was it three? I was past the stage of caring. But like a true New Yorker, I waited. "Are there different strengths?" the girl snapped back? Her lethargy was starting to disappear and she appeared to be changing into an alert person. He explained. In detail. And just when there appeared to be light at the end of the tunnel - they'd surely run out of discussing this - there can't be any more attributes of a condom.... the focus moved. Leaving the strength issue unresolved, the customer asked about the lubrication level. My patience snapped. I might be a New Yorker but there are limits. I pushed him aside. "Can I just buy my shampoo and you take this issue up after?" I asked, in a very loud New York voice. "Sure", came the gracious reply. The girl giggled. She was human after all. I never get the A train. A friend told me that people grow old on the A train. But I may as well have ridden it every day for the nine years I've spent in this town. Instead of shampoo I should have bought Grecian. As I left the store, I glanced back. They were still arguing. Another woman was getting ready t move toward the counter. She'd looked around thirty when I'd first noticed her behind me in the line. No longer. As I shuffled home I thought about my latest New York moment. Was I past my use-by date? Were the condoms? Would the customer ever use his Trojans? Would the assistant tell her phone-friend. Should I start taking the A train? Would it make any difference? Did the ancient Greeks and Trojans have Athena and Trojan moments? Did any of it matter anyway? Despite it all I look forward to my next, "New York Moment". Kate Juliff New York March 2002 |
