Yet Another Encounter with Dumb People

That is the last time I go to Dunkin' Donuts. Ever. I know, I said that the last time. But this time is officially the last time.

What is so hard about regular coffee with cream a sugar? Isn't that the standard way to take the beverage? Every time I go there, it ends horribly. Here's how my first Disastrous Dunkin' Donuts trip went that then initiated a wave of disastrous trips:

Me: Hi, I'd like a medium iced coffee with cream and sugar please. Just a little bit of ice, though. (I really want French Vanilla, but can they handle that? They'll probably screw up the ice if I ask for French Vanilla.)
DD Employee: Plain?
Me: (Ooo, maybe this one's competent.) French Vanilla, please.
DD Employee: Ok, you want it iced or hot?
Me: (Didn't I say this already?) Iced, please.
DD Employee: Ok....(goes to get iced beverage cup).....(a minute goes by)....
Me: (Do I remind her just a little ice? I'm nervous.)
DD Employee: You want what size?
Me: Medium! (The one you're holding, dummy. I can't say "please" anymore.)
DD Dummy: Ok. (puts ice and coffee in...finally) You want skim milk, right?
Me: No!!!! (You idiot!) Cream! I want cream. And sugar. (Just because I'm thin she assumes I want skim milk?!)
Stupid: Ok. Sugar and skim milk.
Me: Cream! Not skim milk! (Why is this so difficult?! This is not a fancy Starbucks where people order their Grande Non-fat Iced Cinnamon Mocha Latte with Soy, No-Whip. I ordered a Medium Iced Coffee with Cream and Sugar. That's three words short of a fancy Starbucks order! And they still can't get it right?!)
Dumbo: How many sugars you want?
Me: (Oh my gosh - how did you get hired? - the regular?!) 2?
(...another what feels like 5 minutes go by...)
Einstein: Here you go. (handing over a plain, full-of-ice iced coffee with what looks like a dash of skim milk.)

The people who work at Dunkin' Donuts are dumb. They can barely speak English. I'm always charged something different for the same drink. And I'm always there 10 minutes more than I need to be. And the worst part of it all is --- I don't even drink coffee anymore!

Due to complications of the digestive track (Tmi? Oh, it's coffee. You've got problems, too.), I can no longer drink coffee on a regular basis. And regular for me was three cups a day: two in the morning, one when I'm feeling sluggish around 3:00 in the afternoon. Now, I just drink a cup of tea in the morning and am learning how to curb my afternoon caffeine craving with a glass of ice water, some quick energizing exercises moves, or just reminding myself of the pain inflicted when I take a sip of coffee. You'd think it would be easy to steer clear of Dunkin' Donuts these days.

But no. There is something so special about walking down the street holding your cup of coffee. On a cool day, that cup of coffee in a Styrofoam cup in your hand makes you feel warm. Happy. Important. It's idyllic to pop into a coffee shop and grab a quick coffee and walk down the street with it. Something I couldn't do in the Land of Cars that is suburbia. And so, every now and then, despite my condition, I like to indulge in a piping hot beverage in a Styrofoam cup.

Today I'm babysitting. And the weather and my stomach agree that today would be a nice day for such a treat. And lo and behold, the giant plastic D's are glistening in the sun, beckoning me to spend 3 bucks on a Chai Tea. Baby and I stroll into the store to find only 3 people in line before us. In the 15 minutes that I'mwaiting to get to the counter, the 5 employees mess up 2 people's orders, burn a bagel, and charge the same guy twice. I want to shout, "There are more of you than there are of us! Get your act together! You people are incompetent!" But then I remember the wise words of my sister: "It's not worth it to argue or reason with dumb people. They're dumb." Finally, it's my turn to order. I brace myself as I approach the counter. It's a simple order. "Medium Chai Tea please."

.......Three minutes later.......Doesn't he just have to push the "Chai Tea" button?... Seriously! It takes him three minutes to get my stinkin' Chai Tea?! I'm angry. I reluctantly hand over my precious 3 bucks. The stroller is stuck on a cracked floor tile and now the wheels flipped in the wrong direction. Get me out of here! I nearly spill my drink on the ground as I try to maneuver the stroller out of the narrow doorway. Unbelievable. I'm never going there again. Every single Dunkin' Donuts is the same. With the same dumb employees. Who forget that they're working at a fast food place. Apparently, they're also forgetting they're at work doing work and you need to do good at your work. From this moment on I refuse to set foot in another Dunkin' Donuts ever again. I refuse to spend money on an institution that hires dumb people. Quote me on this. I dare you to. I will never ever go to Dunkin' Donuts again.

Oh, it's been awhile. I bet my Chai Tea has cooled down by now along with my temper. This better have been worth it. They better not have screwed up my...Oooooo...Mmmmm...Yum. This is good. I had forgotten how good Chai Tea was. The vanilla, the spices, the frothy foam. And I look so cool holding my Styrofoam cup. Ok...maybe it's not so bad. Maybe I'll go back someday...maybe...just once more.

Someone Has to Be the Rabbit on Easter

I didn’t get to go home for Easter today. We had two performances of “The Velveteen Rabbit,” at Manhattan Children's Theatre and people actually bought tickets to see a show on Easter Sunday, so I couldn’t go home to Massachusetts. It wasn’t even like they were all non-Christian. I think these people were celebrating the holiday by taking their kids to the theatre. But rest assured, my Dad has been sending me text updates all day on the Easter at Home. The first was while I was still sleeping.
8:45am: Egg Hunt 2010: Lindsey: 32, Michael: 30.
And then,
8:49am: Make that Lindsey: 34, Michael: 33. Forgot the foyer.
Then several picture texts of everyone at the party. Oh, and the empty parking lot at church, to prove that he was one of the first to arrive at mass. Good job, Dad.

Of all the important holidays, I’ve only missed one Thanksgiving because I had to work at Letterman. That was sad, but I spent the night with other friends stuck in town and we actually cooked a really good turkey dinner and made three different pies, which we sampled in three different sittings and got full three different times. Gramma’s Old-Fashioned Apple Pie, Awesome Chocolate Cream Pie, and Casey’s Attempt at Pumpkin Pie. I guess that Thanksgiving was memorable in itself if I still remember the names of what pies we ate.

Anyway, this was my first Easter not to go home. I’m a little sad, but anticipating my loneliness, I conveniently scheduled a random 3-day vacation last week to visit the fam. I got my Pfau Pfix and was able to brave my Easter Sunday with a smile on my face. Very necessary, considering I had to be the velveteen rabbit and make all the kids smile today. The show must go on, right?! They all came in wearing their Easter outfits and carrying their new baskets. It was cute. But it still didn't quite feel like Easter. (Although you'd think the parallel between the Easter "Bunny" and my character of the Velveteen "Rabbit" would be enough...) After the shows, all I wanted to do was head back to my apartment and go for a run in my park. Well, Astoria Park. But I call it my park. Even though, the reason I wanted to run more than anything was because I knew at the park I would see families and friends barbecuing, playing soccer, laughing, talking, being together. Some of them don't have yards of their own, so they take their tables and chairs and food to the park. Seeing these strangers celebrate made me feel good. Even though I wasn’t sitting celebrating with them, I still felt like I was part of something. And it was such a nice day out. And I’m just convinced nothing can go wrong when it’s a nice day out.

While running I realized I am lucky in the regard that what kept me from visiting home today was doing what I love. I was performing a show that is very near and dear to my heart. A show about love and family and the sacrifices we have to make if we’re going to love and be loved. How fitting for today.

I guess I am getting older, and part of living on your own means not being able to celebrate every holiday with your family. And that’s ok. I’m in the stage in my life where it’s ok to do things on my own, be by myself, and embrace independence. Someday I’ll have a husband and kids of my own and wish I had this solitude and silence.

Nahhhh! I’d never wish for this again! Part of growing up, part of life, is accepting where you are in the moment. So today, I am alone on Easter. And that’s ok. But another part of life is striving and hoping for your dreams. So today, I’m also comforted by the faith that I will not always be alone on Easter.

Ooo, text from Dad.
7:21pm: Mom just found another egg!

You know, with all these new fangled text messaging things - I'm not really alone at all. :)

Random Luck

Ew. Bird poop just landed on my head...and my purse...and my shoulders...and, yuck, down the sleeve of my North Face. "Oh great!" I mutter, up to the bridge above me, hoping that darn bird will hear my pain. I pull a used tissue from my pocket and begin wiping the disgusting goo off of my jacket.
"Here, let me help you," says a Greek man, about 30 years old, who I noticed walking near me, and must have witnessed the whole crime go down. "There's some on your back, too."
"Oh, thanks," I manage a courtesy laugh: "Haha. What a way to start the day, right?" I joke. I'm not mad. I mean, I guess it could be worse. And, I'm only on my way home, not off to a job interview or anything like that.
"Here," Greek guy says as he takes my used, dirty tissue, with snot inside and wipes the dirty bird goop off my shoulders, "let me help."
"Oh, thank you. That's nice of you. Thanks."
Should I feel uncomfortable right now? Or grateful? Weirded out at all? A stranger is brushing my shoulders.
"Do you have another one?"
Huh? Another dirty tissue? Yea - but do you really want to have it?
"Yea." I pull out a second used, dirty tissue from my pocket, and he takes it to wipe more green stuff off of my tainted jacket.
"Haha. Thanks, wow, that's a lot, huh?" How much poop can a bird possibly have inside of him? Aren't they small animals?
"It is good luck to have that."
"What?"
"It means good luck. You will have luck come to you now. Maybe with your boyfriend, your husband, or career."
"Sounds like someone just made that up to make positive out of this situation. Cuz there's really nothing pleasant about this." You know, like whoever said "It's not about whether you win or lose," obviously lost. And the guy who said "There are no small parts, only small actors," was clearly a five foot man playing Servant #4 in one of Shakespeare's tragedies.

Either way, I decide I could use some luck in those departments - who couldn't? "Well, I'll take the luck." I tell my new friend, as if this Greek guy is going to now offer me 3 wishes.

"Yes, it is a very good sign."

Now we're awkwardly walking side by side. I can't just take off ahead and speed away. He just used my dirty tissues to wipe bird poop off my shoulders for cryin' out loud. What a guy.

"So you go to school or work?" he says. As if this is all normal. The walking together. The bird poop. The tissues.

"Both. I work at a school. Yourself?"

"I work. I'm going there now."

"Cool." Ah-ha! The weather! Default stranger conversation starter. "It's cold out today, huh?"

"That is good for me."

"Oh?"

"I hope it snows. It's good for my business."

Wouldn't it be great if this story ended with him saying he was joking about the snow, and would I like to go with him to Greece and marry him and live happily ever after?

Only in a fantasy world. Where things like birds pooping on you doesn't exist. And neither does snow. Now, THAT, would be lucky.

We reach the end of our journey together.

"Good bye. Enjoy your luck."
"Good bye. Thanks for your help."

I'm not sure why moments like this fascinate me. Maybe it's because I think there's something so special about strangers sharing genuine moments. That strangers can have genuine moments. Or maybe it's because growing up in a small suburban town, where everyone knows each other, you don't have these moments with strangers. Or maybe it's like in the movie "UP" when the little boy is reminiscing about eating icecream cones and counting red and blue cars on a curb with his dad and he says, "I know it sounds boring, but it's the boring simple stuff I miss."

These simple things fascinate me. The fact that a bird using you as his toilet supposedly brings good luck. The fact that a stranger doesn't mind helping you clean yourself off. And that these 3 minutes this morning have inspired me to write a blog.

So...here's to embracing random moments with random people. And making the most out of what could be bad day triggers. Here's to my good luck!

Oooh, a quarter on the ground! That is lucky!!! And I sign to take this jacket to the laundromat sooner rather than later.