Okay, this morning I stopped at The Better Bagel on Geary Street to get a blueberry danish. I was lucky because there was a parking spot right in front. I didn’t have any change for the meter though, so I just went in to see if they had the danish. Here’s the rub – they only make ONE blueberry danish per day, so it’s a crap shoot. I kid you not – are we talking OUTRAGEOUS or what? Anyway, the clerk knows me now, and when she saw me she went for it. I saw it first this time, and I stupidly yelled out, “Blueberry, Blueberry!”, and I was like salivating (oh yeah, they’re that good) and pointing like Donald Sutherland at the end of Invasion of the Body Snatchers.
So as she was warming the danish and I was pouring myself a cup of Hazlenut Cream coffee, a meter maid (is that sexist?) pulled up behind my car. When I saw her, I hurried out, hoping it wasn’t too late. Of course it was too late. She was working on the ticket and explained that she couldn’t stop it. I mumbled excuses about no change and the joy of blueberry danishes and I don’t know what else to which she replied, in that unemotional meter maid drone, that I should keep some change in my glove compartment. Sigh. Resigned, I told her that I understood as she handed me the ticket.
As she headed back to her meter maid mobile, she says over her shoulder, “you’re a kind man.”
Hmm. I got into my car, pulled out of the lot, and then reached for the danish as I merged with traffic. I bit into the warm blueberry goo and all was right in the world again.
UPDATE: The picture was provided by my buddy Thomas! Love it!