• I Don’t Know If I’d Risk My Life For It

    11356662_688665047934084_1808695431_nHello Blog World!  It’s good to be back.  After a week of not writing posts, I have plenty to talk about.  Now I just have to figure out where to begin!

    Let’s start with the events that occurred on Wednesday August 19, 2015.  That morning, I developed a nice little plan in my head for the day.  I figured out where I would go on my errands and more importantly, where I would go to get food.  I had been wanting to taste the ice cream/frozen yogurt at Victory Garden for a while, but for some reason, hadn’t gone on many West Village food adventures in a while.  I had to go down to Bleecker St. in order to picky up a pair of Rx sunglasses that were made for me (FYI, the glasses had been ready since May, but I forgot to pick them up this whole summer,… oops!).  SEE is also the eyeglass store where I had my most recent eye exam, and because my license is going to expire in a few weeks, I needed to have the renewal paperwork filled out by the eye doctor.  Also, I’d be happy to continue to provide additional meaningless information to you regarding my vision if you’d care to send me an e-mail…

    I took the subway downtown and started to walk over to Victory Garden.  I was waiting at a crosswalk for the light to change and noticed out of my peripheral vision (because I can still see a little bit without my glasses on) that this strange looking woman is walking towards me.  Obviously, the first thing I think is, “FUCK,” because I know something weird is going to happen and there is no where for me to go because I need to cross the street.  And, obviously, I’m right.  This crazy looking lady who I’m 99% positive had just escaped from Bellevue stops directly in front of me and starts talking.

    Since I don’t remember the specifics of the entire conversation, I cannot quote it verbatim, but I will give you the gist of it.  Crazy Lady wants me to tell her that I hope she has a good day.  Innocent enough, right.  Odd to tell someone to say that to you, but whatever, I wasn’t too phased by it.  Now Crazy Lady continues to talk to me.  She’s asking me something along the lines of if “someone” has pain, will it go away?  Oh, and she gives me an example of her having pain in her arm.  She seriously wants to know if she has pain in her arm, will it ever go away.  Crazy Lady continues to explain herself, by clarifying that she wants to know if the pain will ever go away or be with you forever.  First of all, this is the longest fucking light at an intersection that I have ever come across.  Second of all, there wasn’t even a millisecond of a pause between cars passing through, leaving me only an option of getting hit by a car to get away from this woman, which I was beginning to consider.

    Approximately a year and a half later, the light changes and I can finally cross the street to get away from Crazy Lady and get my ice cream.  Before my foot even hits the ground in an attempt to start walking, Crazy Lady asks me my name.  I don’t need Crazy Lady somehow tracking me down, so I, very nicely, responded that I was running late and had to leave and began to walk away while saying this.  Well, that wasn’t happening.  Crazy Lady, and I am not making any of this up, grabs my arm and tells me to wait.  In a whiney toddler voice she re-states that I need to tell her my name and that it will only take a second.  Okay, now that I have some strange woman’s hand on my arm, I’m in “Fight or Flight” survival mode.  My response to her, which I still don’t quite understand, was, “my name is Lauren, I have to go now, I’m really late for something, it was nice to meet you.”  A) my name isn’t Lauren  B) I’m late for eating ice cream  C) it clearly wasn’t nice to meet you Crazy Lady.

    Feeling confused and violated, I continued on my way to Victory Garden for my ice cream.  With all of the chaos that I was experiencing, I ended up walking two blocks too far and had to circle back around, which was just plain annoying.  It seemed like a lifetime had passed by the time I walked in the doors of Victory Garden and ordered my ice cream treat.  I got chocolate soft-serve with rainbow sprinkles.  It was pretty delicious.  The ice cream at Victory Garden is actually made from goat’s milk, so it has a little bit of a different taste and is better for you, in terms of digestion.  I’d never had goat’s milk ice cream before, and now that I have, I can say that it had a very similar taste to Greek Yogurt, just in flavored ice cream form.

    All in all, am I happy that I was able to go to Victory Garden and try something new, yes.  Am I happy that I had this bizarre encounter with Crazy Lady, no.  Will I go back to Victory Garden, yes.  Will it ever see Crazy Lady again, I really hope not.  This ice cream was good, but I don’t know if I’d risk my life for it.

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