Tuesday, June 20, 2006


While making the walk home through what felt like the streets of the depths of hell due to the heat and humidity I decided I’d grab a quick bite to eat. There are probably 30 different restaurants along the nine blocks I walk home everyday. On this particular day I decided I was going to go the healthy route.

After all, it’s summer, it’s time to get back to the gym, and more importantly I’ve got another wedding coming up in just a few weeks. I know just as well as the next girl, showing up a bit chubby to a wedding is the fastest way to make sure your name is flying around the table. After all, I feel like the window to say, “I’m still carrying a little holiday weight” has been closed for months now!

With the heat beating down on me, I swung into deli to get a salad. Now that may sound embarrassing to my Alpha Male readers, but here in NYC it’s quite acceptable to eat a salad. The salads are great b/c they make to order with just about everything but the kitchen sink included…They grab the plastic bowl full of clean lettuce and start throwing in what you call out!

Just a few more blocks in this heat and I would be home. I ditched the overly big white bag the salad came in and just kept it under my arm as I was going to try and scarf it down and make it to the gym before 8pm. At this point beads of sweat were rolling down my face and I’m sure it looked like the Bermuda Triangle of Sweat showing through my long sleeve shirt.

Finally I’m at my door and moments away from getting back into some AC and I couldn’t be happier. I stopped a few feet from my door because there is an apartment on the third story who’s AC unit leaks directly in front of the door to the building. And by leaks I mean the drops of water that look like clear water balloons crashing to the ground every 3.5 seconds.

I’ve got my bag thrown over my shoulder, my salad under my arm like it’s a football, all this time I can feel my entire body becoming that much hotter. There’s me, the water, and the door. I started to fumble around my pocket for my keys and then, as is usually the case when you’re in a hurry, seem to have found a black hole in my pocket.

More sweat, more fumbling, and the salad is starting to become very slippery. At this point, I’m elbow deep in my right pocket, fighting lose change to get my damn keys when it happens!

The door starts to open. Yes, perfect, finally! Other than our door weighing as much as a medieval castle drawbridge, I will be inside in just a few seconds. As the door opens the cute girl (or so I guess because I’ve yet to meet her) from the apartment above me, looks up, sees my sweating face, my beady eyes, and my hand going crazy in my right pocket.

She screams at the sight of what I can only imagine looks like some sicko getting his rocks off outside her new apartment building and with a salad no less. As her scream bounces off me, it scares the hell out of me, after all I’m at the point where I think the heat has made me delusional I start to let out a little scream too!

Now I know that’s about as manly as my choice for dinner and maybe that why what happened next was meant to be. With both of us startled and me suffering from heat stroke, my salad goes flying out of my hand, into the air and crashes to the ground, shooting lettuce everywhere. The lid is about a block away and there are small cherry tomatoes floating in the pond-like puddle the AC unit from the third floor has created.

Once our nerves settled and I had a chance to wipe off my forehead everything seemed to be, as I’m sure it did to anyone watching, absolutely hilarious. We both laughed and then introduced ourselves soon there after. As she headed down our block I went up to grab a broom so I could clean up the evidence of my dinner as it lay dead to the world, right outside my doorstep…

Thanks for listening


  1. I think awkward situations that lead to introductions are fun...I'm glad you laughed too. And hey-- don't worry about what us bloggers think about your 'manliness'-- I enjoy your writing:)

  2. Please tell me the part about you screaming was literary liberty and a fictional item inserted for impact. Please. I beg of you. Otherwise, I'm sending you a skirt and boa to be worn for your next visit to the hair salon downtown.