Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Downtown Venus (Or, Virginia Is For Lovers)

Last night I was walking on Bleecker Street in the Village with my friend Jeremy. We had just passed the (infamous, overrated, so-well-past-its-moment, aneurysm-inducing) Magnolia Bakery and were stopped at a corner, waiting for traffic to pass and the light to change. I was caught offguard by a shrill, screamed question - barked out in a thick New Yawk accent - somewhere off to my right:


It took a second to figure out where this wail was coming from. I looked around and saw a massive beige sedan with Virginia license plates crawling through the intersection. The driver was a harried middle-aged woman whose appearance was marked by a blur of make-up and an explosion of curly black hair that was, well, in dire need of some sort of conditioning rinse. She continued:


Speechless, Jeremy and I both pointed over our shoulders down the block. The car slowed down in front of us and the woman continued to yell:

"GREAT. THAT'S JUST GREAT. These are all one way streets! How do I get there!"

We both shrugged and Jeremy replied, "Just drive around the block - it's right there."

Despite our directions and help - the woman's aggravation only escalated:

"JESUS! I mean, I know this city like the back of my hand - but this goddamned Greenwich Village! I tell you - it's a MESS!"

With that, the frizz and the make-up and the yelling and the oddly-out-of-place- given-her-accent Virginia license plates were finally gone - off down the street.

I could only think - it's not the lack of a street grid that makes the Village a mess, lady.

It's that goddamned bakery.


R. said...

I am waging a one-man boycott against cupcakes in this city. By the look of it, it's failing.

Goddamn cupcakes. Glorified, tiny muffins with nasty frosting is what they are.

Q. said...

clearly you haven't tried my cupcakes.