January 18, 2006
A Rose
The bus clattered through an intersection past a throng of people all illuminated by a festival of blinking neon lights, all waiting for the theater to open. I accidentally elbowed a Mexican kid in the side as I made my way back to an available seat. After walking almost all day, I was glad just to have the opportunity to sit down. Then I stopped and turned around. The floral shop was a block away and I briefly thought of picking up something for Diva. The doors hissed and clanked open as the bus slammed to a halt, and I made the split-second decision to jump off. I excused myself and dashed out the doorway before the doors closed, interrupting a group of Japanese girls who were chattering amongst each other in front of the exit. My feet hit the pavement and I headed for the intersection. I stepped off the curb as the signal turned white, only to leap out of the way of an errant Honda Civic that ran the red light. As the car putted by, I extended my middle finger right at their passenger-side window, right in a frightened-looking trashy blonde's face.
It's not even safe to walk in this fucking city.
After successfully making my way across the street without getting crushed by one of many inattentive morons, I stepped up onto the brick walkway to the florist. The lady behind the counter looked up from her phone conversation and greeted me with her thick accent.
"Good evening, how can I help you?"
"I'd like to get one red rose, please."
"Okay, they're right over there." She pointed to a large glass refrigeration case near the back. I nodded, thanked her, and made my way over to it. Grasping the handle, I pulled to open it. The damn thing was stuck.
"Hold on one second, there's a trick to it." I half-heartedly thought 'Why in the fuck did you point to it like I was supposed to get it myself?' Regardless, I smiled at her and quipped, "Okay, I'll let the expert handle it." She looked up at me and smirked.
"Where are you from? New York?"
"Uh...no ma'am, I'm from Texas."
"Ah, I figured you weren't from around here. Most people around here have no concept of manners."
I didn't have the heart to tell her that New Yorkers were generally almost as rude as Angelenos (if not more so), so I just nodded in assent.
"The rose will be $7.00."
"$7.00?"
"Yes, you have to pay Uncle Sam, you know. Not everything is free." She punctuated the sentence with a cackle that sounded like a murder of crows fighting over a piece of stale bread. I gave her a weak smile and dug in my pocket, producing...$6.00 and a bit of change. Right off the bat I knew I wouldn't have enough.
"Give me a second, let me see what I've got here...."
I counted out the change. It came out to exactly $6:89. Shit.
She looked over at me (and my presumably disheartened expression) and purred, "Do you have enough? If not, I have some change here..." I accepted it and thanked her. A horn blared right outside as she tore off a sheet of plastic.
"You know, it's amazing how rude some people are around here. It makes you happy to see someone who has a bit of respect for others."
"I know just what you mean."
"You know, the other day I went to deliver some flowers to a business, and the lot attendant...he was a Mexican..." Instead of saying "Oh, so since he was a Mexican I should have expected that he'd be rude?" I continued to listen.
"...he told me that I had to pay the fee to park in the lot! I said, 'You mean to tell me that now I have to pay for only being here five minutes? I deliver here almost every week, you should know me by now! I've never had to pay before! Can you believe that? How rude is that?"
Mustering yet another weak smile, I decided to placate her and get out of there before I breathed wrong or did something else to incur her almighty wrath. "Yeah, some people....Well, I appreciate you letting me get by with not having enough money. Have a good evening, and take care of yourself."
With a grimace that would have made the Cheshire Cat shit itself, she bade me a good night and went back to her phone call.
I crossed the street and began to walk the seven-block trip to the apartment. The sky shone with a brilliant orange cloudcover smeared with dark, purple clouds. A bone-chilling wind cut through me, and I zipped up my jacket. People passed, horns blaring, music thumping, passengers yelling and chatting. Commotion like that just made me enjoy the occasional silence even more. I passed a few guys bullshitting and smoking in front of a liquor store, and as I crossed the street, I heard a deep voice boom, "Nice rose."
I turned to see a large black guy in a dirty sweatsuit. His grizzled, wiry beard stuck out at all angles and he smirked at me. I grinned, thanked him, and turned back towards the street, ready to get home, kick off my shoes, and relax. As the traffic signal changed, I thought to myself: 'Well, not everybody's too rude."
Posted by Jake at January 18, 2006 05:51 PM
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