Wednesday, January 05, 2005

What? What?

This morning I took the 6:24 to Grand Central because I got to Cortlandt too early to justify hanging around for the train I usually take. The only reason to do so would've been the comfort of habit, which the comfort of a warm train trumps.

Because I was on an earlier train, my whole morning was thrown off. I got to Grand Central with too much time to kill, so I visited the ATM, walked a lap around the "dining concourse" and decided to get a bagel. I've grown to hate Zaro's because the bagel kids are either rude or stupid (and often some charming combination of the two), so I took a chance on Oren's, which I pass every day but have never tried.

There was no line, so I walked right in and asked the guy behind the counter for an everything bagel with cream cheese. I had every reason to presume a normal bagel-related interaction would follow.

While the guy was making my bagel, another Oren's employee finished putting some money in the register, came over to me, and very curtly said "Man, first she comes in here by herself before, and now you come in by yourself."

I had no idea what he was talking about, so I kind of smiled and focused on the minutiae of my bagel production. He, however, took this as an opportunity to expound. "You too good to walk with people now? You just leave your "friend" or whatever?"

A businessman had entered a few seconds before. After ordering his coffee, he chimed in, "Yeah, well, I think they broke up."

I thought maybe I was being crazy, and they weren't talking to me at all. I actually performed the classic, straight from a sit-com turn-and-look-around-for-the-person-they-must-be-talking-to-behind-you move, but both had definitely spoken to me, and were now looking at me expectantly for an answer.

I paid and got the hell out.

A series of logical assumptions:
(1) Oren's employee believes me to be a regular patron who normally purchases bagel with "friend."
(2) Oren's employee believes "friend" to be patron's "girlfriend".
(3) Patron's girlfriend appeared alone this morning.
(4) Oren's employee is too involved in the lives of his customers, most likely because
(5) Straight guys like lesbians.

Discussion questions on remaining mysteries, even if all the above is true:
(1a) Is it possible for me to resemble this other girl so much that, even after seeing her every single day, he could mistake me for her?
(1b) Is it possible that the other girl is the twin a ten-dollar psychic named Bonnie told me I had? Have my parents been lying to me, right to my face, all these years?
(2) How is the businessman involved? How could he possibly know anything about the sapphic romance in question?
(3) Could the Oren's employee have thought that this would work as a pick-up line? What chemical imbalance would cause him to think so?
(4a) Given the prevalence of reality TV, could I have accidentally wandered into someone else's show?
(4b) Am I on my own show? Truman-style?

Any illumination would be deeply appreciated.

In other apocolyptically weird news, there may or may not be a N.O.R.E./Jay-Z video being shot on Varick street today. Brian the Co-Worker recieved a call from a very nearly certifiably insane mutual acquaintance last night. She requested his presence between Spring and Vandam (coindicentally--or not--this is right outside where we work) at nine this morning, and, oh, by the way, could he wear a white suit? When I forced him to call the nutbag this morning at a quarter past nine, she again insisted that she is producing a Jay-Z video (isn't he retired? Isn't she a 22-year-old schizotypal editorial assistant?), that they would be filming later today, and that she needs him to wear white because he's going to be a KKK member (shouldn't that kind of information be provided up front?).

Updates will be posted as soon as this situation takes its swan dive into an Olympic-sized pool of crazy.

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