I went down to Penn Station to get popcorn to sneak into Bruno this evening. I tell the guy taking orders and money that I'd like 3 bags (they're small and some was for Jeff) and a plastic bag to put them in. I hand him a 5 and he gives me back 50 cents.
The guy scooping the corn fills up one bag and hands it to me. I put it in the plastic bag and hold it open for the rest. While he is scooping the 2nd one the woman behind me calls out, "Lots of salt! Salt in the middle AND on top!" She calls out "in the middle AND on top!" again but no one is paying any attention to her.
The guy scooping the corn clearly does not know what's going on. He just scoops and hands it off. I said to him, but loud enough for her to hear, "I bought 3 bags. That one is mine."
"Oh I don't think so!" the woman says angrily from behind me.
He looks at me questioningly. "Put it in the bag," I tell him.
"It's got extra salt! It's mine!"
I calmly and firmly said to the scooper, "I love salt. Put it in the bag. And then the third popcorn I paid for. Thank you."
I never once looked at her. I got my corns and I walked away. Seriously oh hell no.
Do not mess with a popcorn addict. When we need a fix we need it BAD.
- Has very definite opinions about: popcorn, beer, sushi, traveling, air conditioning, undergarments, tourists in Manhattan. I've been calling myself "a writer" on and off again since I was 6 years old. I'm currently using this space to practice doing more of that, even if it's just spewing junk at you. But you've been forewarned!
Attention beer people: As much as I love beer, I don't post very much about beer. I prefer drinking it to writing about it.I post photos quite regularly to Instagram and sometimes to flickr and I don't usually cross-post them here.