Today, on my lunch break, I stood in a labyrinthine line at the post office. It is highly frightening in that line. People break into riots IMMEDIATELY if the person next in line does not IMMEDIATELY respond when the “next available teller” calls out, “Window 5.”<\/p>\n
Literally if the person next in line pauses .54 seconds in order to figure out which window is calling, someone in the line will shriek, “NEXT WINDOW! Jeez!!” It’s awful. I want to punch people in the head. I feel like I am supposed to have eyeballs all up and down the side of my body, in order to monitor the situation at each and every window. (It’s a huge post office)<\/p>\n
Anyway, I’m standing in line, in my huge sheepskin coat, my shapeless fleece hat, my enormous white wool scarf, my thick tights and my big chunky shoes. (I am only listing my outfit to let you know how lumpy and unfeminine I appeared.) I was already nervous, because my turn to be “next in line” was getting close, and the natives were restless.<\/p>\n
Suddenly, this very pretty girl next to me said, “Excuse me … what perfume are you wearing? It is incredible<\/i>… Is it an aromatherapy blend or something?”<\/p>\n
I only wear one perfume, and you can only buy it at one place – a day-spa called Carapan on 16th street<\/a>. It is “their” perfume, and it is called “Plateau”. Hard to describe the scent, but … let’s just say that this is not the first time a total stranger has asked me about it. It’s not an overwhelming flowery girlie scent at all – it’s very subtle. Like a pine woods, maybe. A man on the bus once turned around and asked me what it was, and then took down the address of Carapan, so that he could go buy some for his girlfriend.<\/p>\n Lately, I have feared that Carapan may be going out of business. I do not know WHAT the hell I will do then.<\/p>\n I have stocked up and bought a couple of bottles, in preparation.<\/p>\n Anyway, I felt like such a huge lump-ette<\/i>, with my thick tights and fleece hat, and so I was pleased that I actually was recognized as a woman, first of all, and also that I had INFORMATION that somebody might want. This pleases me. Especially if it’s another woman, for some reason. Women are always giving each other helpful tips, like, “Cheap and good manicures at this place on this afternoon…” or “Sample sale up the street from 4 to 6 today…” I never have information like that to give. It’s not my scene.<\/p>\n But damn, I know about this perfume.<\/p>\n I said to her, “You can only get it at Carapan on 16th street…”<\/p>\n She took out her pen.<\/p>\n “It’s in between 5th and 6th … and … I think they may be going out of business … so definitely go soon.”<\/p>\n She was so happy. “Thank you so much!!!”<\/p>\n While this nice little girlie exchange occurred, another window opened, and an absolutely ENRAGED person five slots back in line, roared up at me, “Next window open!” like she wanted to rip my head off and drink my blood, out of sheer rage.<\/p>\n A calm “plateau” of connection shattered. But that’s okay. That’s what it means when you stand in line. You must submit to the energy of the line.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Today, on my lunch break, I stood in a labyrinthine line at the post office. It is highly frightening in that line. People break into riots IMMEDIATELY if the person next in line does not IMMEDIATELY respond when the “next … Continue reading