It was an ordinary trip to the supermarket. All I needed was a loaf of bed, a quart of milk and a stick of butter. It couldn’t be all that difficult to acquire those items, or so I thought.
Perhaps it is just a bad case of OCD, ADD or OPP (pick your own initials, I really don’t mind) but when I reached the bread aisle I found myself stumped but not because I am indecisive but because I was distracted by the incessant chirping of a woman on a cellphone.
She stood there in the middle of the aisle. Long black hair cascading down to her shoulders, a pair of torn jeans and a denim jacket. She looked ok, pretty darn decent to be honest but there was one thing that I couldn’t get beyond and that was her voice. She couldn’t have been more than 32 but she sounded just like George Costanza’s mother.
I stood there in shock. Not only did she sound just like her she had a set of lungs that would have made Pavarotti jealous. Boy could she belt it out and boy did I feel sorry for the guy on the other side of that line.
I suppose that I must have been staring because suddenly she stopped shrieking at him long enough to scream at me.
Her: What are you looking at?
Me: There is a big black thing in your teeth.
This was the wrong thing to say. Suddenly I was faced with an onslaught of “likes, omigawds and jerks” all of which were punctuated by that loud obnoxious voice and then I made it worse by speaking my mind.
“I hope that he is not that good in bed because that must be a real horror show.”
Oy vey, did I call out the crazy. Talk about hell hath no fury. This meshuganeh went bonkers, ballistic and balls out. She called me more names in five minutes than you can imagine. But because G-d likes to laugh he made me giggle and that just enraged her.
Why did I giggle? Because it was incongruous, this loud old lady voice and this young attractive looking woman. But I did have things to do and my intent was not to incite a riot or create any distractions. There was a job to be done so I took action.
In my best imitation of Jerry Seinfeld I asked if she had noticed how most people have a tendency to yell into their cellphones. And you know what, it worked. She calmed down a bit. I could see the fire in her eyes dim and the arched back straightened out a little. Slowly but surely the “look of death” turned from hate to happy and I knew that if I wished her a happy festivus she would relax further.
She smiled and wished the same to me. As I walked away I again repeated my wish for a happy festivus or a happy holidays and waltzed off into the sunset content in the fact that another disaster had been averted.