Cellophane Assault

Yesterday I found myself wandering up and down Church Street checking out the “Please Support Our Business” signs amidst all the construction that has been going on in Harvard Square for months now. I made a mental note that I would selflessly have to convince Amy and Kerry to have strawberry beer with me at “Cambridge One” very soon. I’ll have to dig deep into my heart, but I’m sure I’ll be able to muster up the charity – it’s for a good cause after all.

I rounded the corner onto Mass Ave to pick up a pack of smokes at C’est Bon convenience store. There are two side notes that very short sentence. First of all, I made a feeble, half-assed attempt to quit smoking this week but had decided for the sake of all those around me that maybe now wasn’t such a good time. Secondly, I am very happy that the stubborn side of me has allowed the weak side of me to shop at C’est Bon again. About a year or so ago I gave the clerk a ten dollar bill and he mistook it for a five dollar bill, after causing a mild ruckus over the dispute I swore I would never step foot in there again - for the most part because I was embarrassed to have caused a scene (I recall yelling - “REMEMBER MY FACE WHEN YOU COUNT OUT YOUR TIL TONIGHT AND COME UP FIVE DOLLARS OVER, BUDDY!!”). But I’m over it – it’s easy to lose conviction when your enemy sells two-for-one packs of cigarettes.

Heading back to the office I stopped to pull the smokes out of my pocket and sort of just feel into a trance. To say I’ve been feeling a little bit “off” this week is an understatement. I developed a somewhat unhealthy, but possibly normal, preoccupation with the circumstances of my uncle’s death last week. This has caused all sorts of side effects, the worst being my lack of eating anything remotely decent and inability to sleep well. For example, Tuesday night here is what I had for dinner – four beers. No, not four beers with food. Just four beers. The next morning I woke up starving so I had orange peanut butter crackers and a diet coke for breakfast. It’s a slippery slope into becoming a total sloth but the good news is I’m pretty much at, or very close to, bottom - it’s all uphill from here!! Anyhow, back to my trance –

I snapped out of it and started to unwrap my smokes; I struggled a bit because I realized stuff was starting to fall out of my pocket. Before I knew it, a small piece of cellophane blew off of my cigarette pack and onto the ground. Hands full with coat-pocket debris (matches, ATM card, countless mint wrappers, cash), I watched it float away from me.

Then I hear him.

“MISS!! HEY, MISS!!! YOU JUST DROPPED SOMETHING ON THE GROUND!! YOU JUST LITTERED!!”

I looked up at him half expecting to see a Square Rummy or one of the mentally-ill regulars that frequent the area. But it was a normal looking, middle-aged, sweater and khaki wearing Possibly Prof. John Doe.

I was pretty confused, I obviously had my hands full and did not intentionally throw anything on the ground. I just stared at him in surprise. As he made his way past me, his enraged glare turned soft and his head dropped, as if he were ashamed, toward the ground. For a mere moment I thought he had read my mind (Forgive me, I’ve been trying to watch “Heros” on NBC). And if he had the ability, he would have read:

Sir, yesterday I was walking in this area and saw a man pissing on the side of a building. The day before that a homeless, intoxicated elderly man fell to the ground and no less than ten people walked by and over him before I had a chance to reach him. There are kids in the alleys shooting up. People begging for change and food and for you just to buy a dammed “Spare Change” newspaper already. But, you should be really proud of yourself for taking such a risk, such a stand, against my unintentional assault of this fine area. Small pieces of cellophane blowing into the gutter has been a crime that has been ignored for too long – and you sir are a fucking hero for finally speaking up, if only to a five-foot-three woman standing alone looking sad and confused.

Okay so I’m being hard on the guy. But I was really kind of taken aback by it when it happened. The funny thing is, this is the second time I have made a cellophane faux-pas.

A few years ago Regina and I were standing on a pier at Lake Mead admiring all the trout with a group full of tourists. People were feeding them and there were just tons and tons of them, really amazing.

I went to pull something out of my pocketbook, (god knows what probably a cough drop), and all of a sudden a piece of cellophane flew out, up into the air….and directly into Lake Mead. A few gasped in horror as one unlucky fish gobbled it right up.

I hear hushed whispers of “it was her” ...... and next thing I know all eyes are upon Regina and I…. eyes of hatred and pure disgust. Turning to Regina, but obviously addressing the crowd I say “who am I, Saddam Hussein? Like I did it on purpose….sheesh”.

Needless to say it was a very awkward tour bus ride back to Vegas because most of the folks on that pier were also on our bus.

You know, as I wrote this I started to think about all of the embarrassing travel moments I have caused poor Regina over the years. Thanks for being my friend Regina, I know it hasn’t been easy at times.