This happened when I first moved to Brooklyn in 1985. An oldie but goodie.
I had shopped at Alexander's. Remember their Shoe Department? All those bins piled high with plastic and pleather (look it up!!) shoes, boots and slippers. Disgusting. They were not only monstrosities (both the bins and shoes, etc.) but for some reason, please, I still don't understand this, just looking at that stuff made my hands hurt. I know, insane. A shrink would have a field day. Just thinking about it makes my hands hurt.
Anyways (as we say in Brooklyn) I was coming home on the R train when a man came into the car and wanted to know if the train was going to Queens. I truned and said: "no, Brooklyn". He proceeds to argue with me that the train was going to Queens. After about four of these back and forth I finally said: "Look mister, do me a favor. Travel two hours into Brooklyn (R to this day is a local) and three hours back to Queens". He looked at me, realized he was an idiot and got off the train. Three minutes of my life I will never get back.
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1 comment:
dear grandma sylvia,
of course i remember alexanders!!!!
the place made your hands hurt?
i cracked up reading this story. its a timeless classic.
keep 'em coming. love ya!
ps. where's the philly story? (rashi is waiting)
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