Fiesta Fruit Hats and other Surprises

Oh surprises.  Sometimes even the most basic things in a life can give you an unexpected jolt into reality. You know what I mean.  Things like finding out the milk you just bought has gone bad or that you inadvertently bought perm solution when you meant to pick up hair dye.  You don’t always know why things happen the way they do (example: You weren’t supposed to have milk because you developed an allergy to dairy overnight and, the truth is, curls are really flattering).  The point is, on occasion you have to give in and let the universe leave its mark… even if you have no idea why.

One such ‘universe footprint’ tread on my life a few days ago – one of those moments that makes you say to yourself, “What are people thinking?” and “Seriously?!”  As the story goes, in the middle of last week I found myself  a local branch of the New York Public Library (NYPL… and acronym which will become important in just a minute).  The truth be told, I’m a frequent library visitor.  I love the people watching (the 6’4” man in a fiesta fruit hat continues to be a highlight), I love picking up books (and occasionally judging them by their covers) and I love the fact that you can go and learn something new every day (from how to make fabric flowers to how to write the next great screen play and from saving the world one vermi-composter at a time to how to hide vegetables in dinner … don’t judge).  It’s all there and I’ve probably researched in, thumbed through or read at least 268 of the NYPLs bazillion book collection.  I’ve also began to embrace the world of DVDs though the library.  I’ve caught up on new and old movies – things I’ve wanted to see but have missed, or things I’ve heard about so thought I should try (example: Rachael Getting Married.  If you haven’t seen it, I can save you some time.  Rachael gets married.  Some stuff happens, it’s not all good, and then, yes, she ties the knot). 

So last week, I decided I would check out three movies: a) The Blindside, b) Life As We Know It and c) The Back-up Plan.  As an avid “re-watcher” of things, I’d seen two of these movies before (hint: a and b), so “c” seemed like a reasonable, well, back-up plan… and I don’t even particularly like Jennifer Lopez.  That should have been my first clue.

My fatal error, was, perhaps, in thinking this J-Lo movie would be different from the others.  I wish at this point I could give away a spoiler to the movie, but I can’t… and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to in the future.  Why?  Well, when I opened the DVD all I saw was a shiny disk with Sharpie letters “NYPL” scrolled around the inner circle of the disk.  “Strange,” I thought to myself, noting that a few other DVDs I have don’t have images on them and can be played on both sides.  That’s when it happened.  I turned the disk over, only to find that someone had switched disks and had left me with, well, adult entertainment.  Yes, someone left me with their back-up plan.

In all likelihood, that’s probably not even the best part of the story.  It’s the fact I had to take the DVD back to the library, make the guy working at the check-out counter open the case and flip the disk over himself.  The words, ‘Oh God’ with a horrified throat gurgle could be heard for meters (it is a library, after all).

Lesson learned: While back-up plans are good, I won’t ever pick mine off a communal shelf again.  As for the library, and hopefully my fiesta fruit hat guy... I'll see you later this week.

At least I know what it should have looked like...

Look, spaghetti arms...

I’ve never had a problem with personal space – I don’t mind people near me, I’m not claustrophobic and I hug my friends.  When you think of cities with a lot of personal space, New York probably isn’t the first one to come to mind.  Of course, your assumptions would be correct.  You just have to walk through Times Square a few times to realize that this city has nothing but people!  That said, New Yorkers are definitely of the ‘keep to themselves’ variety, which means bumping into someone on the street or in a lobby will get you the world’s biggest stink eye.  

Sometimes it feels like being in a magical school of fish, all of whom know the intricate dance of speed walking and sidewalk weaving, but sometimes it feels like you’re in the smallest of sardine cans, unable to stand, let alone make any kind of movement that would be Dancing with the Stars approved.  So the other day when I was on the Subway and a lady reached out to grab a bar in the center of the 40+ degree train and instead grabbed my face with her talon nails, all I wanted to do was exclaim, ‘Look, spaghetti arms… this is my dance space [insert me drawing a one-inch arch around myself], this is your dance space [insert me drawing a one-inch arch around her).’  The point is, you can hug me, just don’t gouge me in the face with your nails… and most importantly, don’t invade my dance space.

Sadly, that wasn’t the worst train offense of the day.  No, that came a few hours later on the way home, when  a man sneezed directly onto my face.  Suddenly, I became the person giving the stink eye… and I think I was justified.  He didn’t even apologize for the million germs he power-sprayed across my face.  Forget the need for dance space, I was just hoping he didn’t have swine flu.  The point is, you can be in my one-inch arch, just don’t sneeze on me… and most importantly, if you do, please apologize.

The man in the rose-coloured jeans

Admittedly, it has been awhile since I wrote a blog post.  Sorry dear readers… I promise to be more diligent this summer.  I mean, really, if I want to be discovered for something that will yield a ‘c’ or even ‘b’ list status in order to get a call from Dancing with the Stars, blogging could be my meal ticket.

With that, I bring you: The man in the rose-coloured jeans.

Earlier this week, I found myself at The Body Shop (though this is, in principle, against my Fruits and Passion roots, no such stores are in New York… so I made lemonade whilst in search of a pillow spray).  While smelling a bar of summery pink grapefruit glycerin soap, a man who entered store caught my eye.  Maybe it was because he gave off a vibe or maybe it was because he was wearing dusty rose-coloured jeans.  Who knows?  When I turned around, I spotted him removing a tester of men’s cologne off the shelf, coyly flipping it in his hand and sliding it into his pocket.  Outrage!  Having worked in this industry for years, shoplifters officially give me mad rage.  Enter mission: catch the criminal.  I calmly walked over the cash register and told the two clerks I had just seen the pilfering go down.  They quietly made a call and headed over to chat with the man who proclaimed an interest in gift sets (what… to put down his pants?!).  Giving him items to smell and products to try, the clerks kept him in the store until security arrived.  Security came in the form of a large man, probably 220 lbs and dressed in uniform.  All of us had gleeful aura surrounding us, lest the criminal escape the throngs of our plan… however, it was clearly foolproof.  We’d done all the heavy lifting:  Spotting the crime and secretly detaining the criminal.  Enter mall security in the most ‘epic fail’ moment ever.

Security guard: “What am I here for?”

Clerk tries to secretly point to the thief.

Security guard: “So someone stole something?”

Rose-coloured pants man takes his additional new ‘time killing’ sample and leaves.

Security guard: “Oh – that was him?  Well, what did you want me to do?  Search him?”

Ummm… yes! 

A long story short – the man in the pink pants made a mad dash off the property and the guard watched him do it.  The upside, I got a high-five from one of the clerks for my Nancy Drew-inspired skills.   After not only watching this go down, but having been part of it, I have discovered some very important life lessons:


1) My uncertainty surrounding the effectiveness of mall cops has hit an all-time high and is apparently well-founded .


2) Pink jeans for men are seemingly being crafted and sold throughout the world.  To some, the shoplifting would take a backseat to this offense alone.

3) Sometimes finding the perfect pillow mist can get you caught up in a situation you would never expect... like a heist, or a fashion crime.

All I can say is next time I see someone pocket body care, I’m going to pull out my high kick and nab the thief myself.  I can hear Tom Bergeron telling the story now…