Short Order

Today I went to lunch with good friend and coworker, Laney LaRue at this great little restaurant, Cosi.

If you have not had the chance to eat there before, the restaurant functions as a sort-of high-class McDonald’s where you give your food order at a counter and then wait for them to make it for you. The food is a little pricey, but the salads are delicious, so it is totally worth it.

But anyway-as you may have guessed, there is more to this posting than a Cosi recommendation; because as usual, something sinister happened while I was trying to get my lunch.

The line to order was unusually long today, so I tried to keep busy by talking with Laney and re-reading the menu. So there I was, minding my own business, when all of a sudden I became keenly aware that someone or someTHING was breathing on my back. Indeed, there was a Code Red violation of my personal space in progress, and it was giving me a serious case of the willies.

Slowly, I turned my body to catch the offender in the act; but there was no one there (creepy). So I shrugged my shoulders and started to turn back around; however, just as I began to move I felt my purse hit something. Quickly I looked back and then down in time to see this little old lady standing DIRECTLY behind me. So close in fact, that she was practically in my shoes.

“Excuse me,” I said as my bag bumped into the top of her wrinkled head, and I slowly tried to step forward and out of this seemingly-harmless old lady’s way. No sooner had I moved forward though that the lady moved with me, and this time, she was even closer than before.

For ten minutes this went on, and every time the line moved that lady moved forward as well. Matching me inch to inch, and centimeter to unbearable centimeter. It got so bad, in fact, that I was beginning to have a panic attack. I mean, WHAT is this crazy little old lady think she was doing? Did she think the line would move faster if she managed to crawl inside my outfit? Or worse, did she think that the man taking orders behind the counter would see her standing behind me and be fooled into taking her order before mine?

And I know what you are thinking, “settle down Westchester, she was harmless.” But I implore you, don’t buy into her game! You see, that is exactly what she WANTS you to believe! In fact, she is probably in some sort of menacing old-lady gang whose weapons consist of hour-long stories that have no discernable point and a distinct moth-ball odor that gets into your clothes and can never be washed clean. And then there are those seemingly-endless supply of crumpled-up/slightly-used tissues endlessly materializing from their sweater sleeves…..come to think of it, she was so close to my bag she could have reached inside of it! I had better check and make sure all of my after dinner mints are still there.