Trader Joe's

It is early afternoon, and I am standing on a street corner, waiting for the light to turn green. I'm heading across the street to Trader Joe's, a new supermarket in Manhattan, just off of Union Square.

I am engaging my brain, forcing my synapses to do the complicated mathematics necessary to figure out just how many Clif Bars and tubs of hummus and loaves of wheat bread I will buy in this trip. I glance at the people around me. Three women. One is older, gray hair, somewhat short in stature. The other two are young. One is quite attractive. They are both quite normal looking. One is holding two bags, the other clutches her handbag. We are all waiting to cross the street.

My hummus equations are interrupted by a loud yell. I look up. The girl with two bags--twenty something years old, dark hair, somewhat attractive--is looking in my general direction. She yells.

"Don't do this to me! Not here! Leave me alone!"

I look around. Over my shoulder. To my left and right. Back down at the ground. I am minding my own business.

"Leave me alone! Not here! Not again! Leave me ALONE!"

I look up again. Is this girl talking to me? I look at the woman beside me, also young, quite good-looking.

"Is she talking to me?" I ask. She shrugs her shoulders. Smiles with empathy. Another day in New York, another weirdo fighting with someone. The girl keeps yelling. I look at her, and ask her directly, "Are you talking to me?"

"What kind of question is that?!" she screams. "Leave me alone! Don't get me involved in your illegal activities! I don't want to be part of your schemes! I will tell the police."

Now I'm getting worried. What is she talking about? I feel guilty the way I feel guilty when I pass through customs, totally innocent and yet totally shamed into guilt by the stern look on the customs official's face. And what if everyone around us believes her? Will someone call the cops? Will this girl attract enough attention that people start looking for help? Will I get taken "downtown" and have to "answer a couple of questions"?

"I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about," I tell her.

"DO NOT TALK TO ME! I told you I want nothing to do with your illegal doings! Leave me alone!" We're crossing the street now, and she seems to be heading to the right, while I head to the left. It's all ending. There are no cops following me, no sounds of sirens, and besides the people I've mentioned, nobody seems to have noticed.

The other girl from the corner is walking in front of me, down the street. She looks back and tells me, "I think she's got problems, don't worry about it." "Yeah," I tell her, but I notice that her pace quickens and she stays ahead of me, not slowing down, perhaps not quite trusting her own judgement. She walks into Trader Joe's.

I follow, and hope she doesn't think that I am following her.