Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Bernice and a Strange Morning Stroll in New York

I woke up standing in the middle of the street in Zuccotti Park in New York City. The wind blew cold as the sun between the buildings, and leaves fluttered across my feet. This brought a few questions to mind. One, how was I sleeping standing up? Two, how did I get to Zucotti Park when I live in Greenwich Village? Three, why was I wearing a Green Bay Packers jersey? I’ve been told I look like Aaron Rodgers, but this is Clay Matthews’ number. Man, Clay is playing lights out! I did a force quit on my rabbit trail and restarted my thought process. How? What’s the last thing I remember?

I was on the couch surfing the web at my girlfriend Bernice’s place. She was reading the Hunger Games for the 800th time. I’d just spent $50 on pajamas. I’d ordered six educational DVDs for $25.00. I ordered a queen eco-friendly memory foam mattress with shipping for $499. With the wedding coming up and an environmentally-responsible fiancĂ©e, that was a great purchase. Wait, we had argued. She wanted me to finish my four music lessons. I told her I hated the pan flute and the teacher hit me like Clay slamming Matt Schaub. She didn’t hit me physically. It was emotional. I don’t like the stupid flute so why should I care if I’m one note off! Freaking flute Nazi! I told Bernice this was the last straw. It was me or the pan flute.

She disappeared into the kitchen to fix our apple cider as I clicked “Buy it Now” on the pet boarding and training services for her cat Sniffles during our honeymoon week on Fire Island. She did have a sneaky smile on her face when she walked back in. She asked about the half off at the Nashville Zoo thing, and I reminded her we don’t live anywhere near Nashville. “Stop going to The Real Dealio Bernice! We live in New York!” She set her mug down and retorted, “I love that place… especially Nolensville Road!” I took a sip of the cider, which tasted like the apples had fermented, or been rotten. That’s the last thing I remember.

I made my way down 7th Avenue with something in my hand. What was I holding? It was a wad of 50% off coupons for Jefferson’s, Tasti-D-Lite, Thanksgiving Cooking Class and Monogrammed Necklaces… again in Nashville. “Bernice!!!” I screamed into the thin morning air. I knew I should’ve stuck with Francine. She was a Vikings fan, but she wasn’t insane.

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