its in the numbers

in a matter of one hour and twenty-five minutes (a time span in which i spoke zero words, walked seventeen city blocks and was not listening to my ipod) i had four people, strangers at that, tell me that i was one of the following:

- ugly

- rude

- a jerk

- the meanest

remember, zero words came from my mouth. in that time, i went to the public library where a man, tall, odorous and black, stood smoking a cigarette blowing his exhaust directly at the walkway, told me first that he, "loved me and would like to love me elsewhere." then, since i did not respond (because, honestly, how do you?), he told me i was "f%^&#g ugly and should smile when people talk to me."

nice.

a man being ticketed for what i can only assume was public drunkenness, or something to that affect, told me, not the cop giving him a citation, that i was "a damn rude girl." i crossed between him and the cop, nodding to the police man, implying "excuse me" who said, "sure."

classy.

then, a sad looking, extremely large woman sat on my stoop, smoking, spitting, coughing and drunk. i have never seen her before and hope never to again. i was dropping off my library books to go for a walk and was told, by this whale on my porch, that i "shouldn't be so damn rude, slammin' doors and being a jerk."

alice, who has recently returned from a hospital visit with a better attitude and a little more skip in her step on the stoop, told me, out of the damn blue (which, by the way, is a non-topical point here since the sun apparently never ever ever comes out), that i, sydney schalit, was "the meanest neighbor" ever.

welcome home.


what a day.