Well, some might call them “crazy.” Others might simply refer to them as “diligently and resolutely searching for a cure for breast cancer, in this most Pinkish of months.” Potato, potahto, same thing, right?
Anyways. Where were we? Oh yes, talking about the crayzee. So Annette and I meet up for lunch on Friday, going back to our old bubble tea haunt first to get the required tea – and I was pleasantly surprised to see that the Be Bo Bubble Tea Emporium is getting into the spirit of The Pink, deliberately giving us flamboyant pink straws with our tea. That took a bit of the sting out of the fact that Big Boy Gyros had NOT embraced The Pink, but they get a pass because they’re so damn nice and friendly, and perhaps festooning their establishment with pink streamers and other combustible materials isn’t the wisest idea around deep fryers and grills and such.
But then – THEN – we stop in at the Dunkin Donuts next door, because surely they would have a veritable sea of pink donuts? Surely? I mean, that’s kind of a no-brainer.
Alas, I now have to add DD to the list of places that’s against the Cancerous – as Cori put it, if you’re not with us, you’re against us – because while they had orange and black decorated donuts (hello! Halloween is 3 weeks away! Pinktober is NOW!), not a smidge of pink. On the donuts, at least. Bah.
So at this point I’m pretty despondent. The lack of love being thrown the way of me and my people is disheartening. Do we not count anymore? Is the party over? Oh sure, they light up the entirety of downtown Chicago with pink, but like that’s even difficult. Flick a switch or two, there you go. But it’s too much damn trouble to throw some damn pink sprinkles or a pink ribbon or two on your damn donuts?
Annette sees my face about to start crumpling into a watershed of tears at the inhumanity of it all, the unfairness of the fact that *I* get cancer just when it’s no longer the trendy thing, and quickly suggests we head over to Roscoe Village to the bakery to see what Pinkishness they have going on.
Me, sniffling: Do you think they will? But we can’t go to the evil bakery, Rudy’s.
Annette: Which one is that? Why not?
Me: That’s the one by the Starbucks. That’s close to the 15-minute street parking spot where people park to dash into SB, because of course now in Chicago there are no more meters where you can just drop in your quarter and dash into a store. Noooo, nothing that simple. But the bakery people get pissed off because they think you’re taking away their (nonexistent) customers – so I’ve had my car written on with wax pencil, one crazy customer (the guy who works at Johnny’s Icehouse) swore at me and threw a can of soda at my car, and the owner Rudy basically told me to fuck off.
Me: Yep, it’s true. I used to go into the bakery all the time, but now of course I don’t step foot in there. But there’s another deli/bakery place down the street, we can check that out!
Annette: Sounds good!
We get to the deli, called Nohea, and navigate our way through the many idiot moms who’ve parked all their double-wide strollers with their little bundles of sunshine RIGHT by the entrance. Look, entitled people, I’d be more sympathetic if there weren’t better places for you to park yourselves and the 8 strollers for your coffee klatsch. But there are. So excuse me if I have to “accidentally” kick a stroller out of the way.
Annette and I then get up to the deli/bakery case, and all is right with the world again.
Me, smiling, tears forgotten: Look! Pink donuts! Do you think they’re For The Cure?
Annette: I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t be.
Me, to girl behind counter: Excuse me, are those donuts For The Cure?
GBC: Excuse me?
Sigh, I must mumble or something, because no one ever gets my question the first time I ask it.
Me: You know, in honor of Pinktober. The Pink Month. Breast cancer and all that. Curing people.
GBC, regretfully: I don’t think they are. But that’s a good idea!
Me: I think so too. Especially for people like me, who are eating only Pinkish foods for the month, in honor of Pinktober.
Me: Yep, I’m hoping to be cured by the end of the month.
GBC: Oh….. you mean….
Me, seeing that she’s going to start the “oh no, you have cancer spiel”: I’m just joking!
Me:…..not the part about hoping to be cured.
Me: Even though I really AM focusing on Pinkish foods……..okay, never mind, I’ll just shut up now.
See, and this is where the great customer service aspect kicks in. Because instead of pushing the donut towards me, hustling me out, and locking the door while peering anxiously out the window (oh please, like none of you have ever been there!), she instead hands me the donut in a cute little bag, smiling, telling me to have a nice day.
Though it occurs to me now that maybe compared to the cavalcade of yuppie moms, I’m not that bad to deal with. Which is a scary thought.
Next: How NOT to deal with the crayzee….