By Paul Goldfinger (Some of us miss that Wegmans Café on the second floor; Will it ever return?)
Scene: Wegmans, Ocean. Upstairs café where they have numerous tables and chairs. It is a weekday morning, about 8:30 am. No one else is there. I arrive with my coffee, bagel, iPhone (to check BF) and The New York Times paper edition — looking forward to my mellow morning routine. I find a table with a view overlooking the store. I set everything on the table and sit down.
Disembodied female voice: “With all the tables up here, did you have to sit near me?”
I look around. There is a column facing me, and behind the column I see a woman sitting at a laptop computer. I didn’t notice her before, but now she is quite obvious.
She is about 40 years old and is staring at me, with a slight but (am I imagining this?) menacing smile. I instinctively react negatively to her voice, her tone and her appearance.
Men, I think, always incorporate an assessment of a woman’s appearance whenever they get to talk to one. I thought she was pretty unattractive, although, if it weren’t for her bad attitude, I might have found something to admire.
I stand up and step closer to her.
Me: “Are you kidding?” (I was incredulous, but I also considered the small possibility that she was just teasing.)
She: “No!”
Me: “Well then, I don’t care.” (I mean, really….is she nuts? — thought I. But maybe I do care…a little.)
She: “I’m putting my ear phones on.”
Me: Silence. I resume my morning activities.
Postscript: About 20 minutes later I look up and see that she is gone, but she left a souvenir: all her breakfast detritus. Normally I might have tossed it into the garbage, but it is, in an odd way, part of her, and I didn’t want to think about her for another moment. The busboy will get it.
SOUNDTRACK: Harry Nilsson