Tunnel Vision
I think I deserve the award for the stupidest thing ever to happen to a living being.
So tonight my friend Nick and I went out for Thai food a few blocks south of Union Square. It was disgustingly hot and humid out, and we were sitting by the window. We had just finished eating when who walked by? RJ! RJ and two other guys were walking past, and we made eye contact and he waved at me. A few minutes later he appeared at our table to say hi. I made some introductions, et cetera, et cetera. It was nice. Then RJ went on his merry way.
A little while later, Nick and I left the restaurant and parted ways. I started walking north towards 14th Street. It was like a sauna outside. Both my undershirt and my work shirt were drenched. Suddenly I really had to go to the bathroom. So I started walking towards the Barnes & Noble at the opposite end of Union Square, nonchalantly at first, and then briskly. Very briskly.
I finally got there. Went up to the third floor. The bathroom was closed, with a sign that said, “Closed for cleaning — please use restrooms on the second floor.” Dammit. Took the escalator back down to the second floor. Walked briskly into the restroom.
I went into a stall, shut the door behind me, unbuckled, and sat down on the toilet. I was sweating like a maniac. My clothes were drenched, my face was wet. It was brutal. My glasses were sliding down my face, so I took them off, folded them up and put them in my shirt pocket.
I did my business, finished, stood up, tucked and buttoned everything back together, and leaned over to flush the toilet.
It happened so quickly. Or so slowly. I’m not sure which.
As I leaned over and pressed down on the handle, my glasses fell out of my shirt pocket and into the toilet. A split second later — although it felt like an eternity — I thrust my hand into the toilet bowl to try to grab them before they went down in the powerful watery vortex. But they were gone. My two-hundred-and-fifteen-dollar pair of glasses, with stylish, narrow frames made by Vogue, with featherweight lenses containing anti-reflective coating, a pair of glasses I’d bought in November — had gone straight down the toilet. Along with the contents of my bowels.
Those toilets have really powerful water pressure.
I felt dazed. Not angry or upset, just dazed. Frankly, I was just plain stunned. I stood there gaping, staring into the toilet for a few moments, running the possibilities through my mind, wondering if anything I’d learned in kindergarten or college or law school could help me out here. Maybe I should find a manager? No. My glasses are probably out of the building by now. Maybe I should contact the New York City Sanitation Department? No — we’re talking one pair of glasses amid the contents of several million people’s bowels. There’s nothing I could possibly do. They’re gone.
I walked back to the PATH station, surrounded by blurry shapes. Sat on the PATH train, reading; I can see close up with my glasses, just not far away. Came home, found my spare pair of glasses. Yeah, at least I’ve got the spares. But they’re not nearly as stylish, or as comfortable.
I also have contact lenses, so I think I’ll be wearing those for a few days. And hey, I guess I know what I’m going to be buying with my $300 tax rebate! (But I still think this tax plan sucks, because the members of “the wealthiest one percent” are getting tax rebates, too, and they can already afford all the pairs of glasses they want. With gold frames studded with diamonds, even.)
Coincidentally, according to this week’s issue of Time Out New York: “Some 6,000 miles of sewer tunnels transport 1.5 billion gallons of waste and runoff out of NYC each day.” One and a half billion gallons! I’m screwed. There’s also this more detailed explanation of where the water goes. None of this helps me now.
Anyway, if anyone in the greater New York metropolitan area gets a clogged toilet in the next day or so, you’ll know whose fault it is. Go easy on me, though.
You wouldn’t hit a man without glasses, wouldya?
I have just one word for you–trainspotting!
Just one of the many reasons I opted to switch to contacts once and for all.
YIKES! And I thought I had a heartbreaking “I lost my expensive glasses in a frustrating way!” story! A few years ago, when I first moved to California, I treated myself to a $110 pair of Oakley sunglasses. (Some people might not consider that to be a big deal, but I had just moved across the country and had no job [or prospects] of which to speak!) A few months later, I was at the beach with a couple of friends. Over the previous months, I’d been EXTRA careful with the Oakleys–always making sure I didn’t drop, scratch, or lose them. Well, my brain must’ve been boiling in the hot sun that day, because I absent-mindedly wore my sunglasses into the water. (Huh?) When I turned to respond to a quip from one of my companions, I turned directly into a large wave that SWEPT the sunglasses off of my face and into the water. They were gone! I immediately searched the area (with my feet–really effective, eh?) but there was nothing I could do. I was heartbroken (and angry at myself) for weeks afterward. I figured my glasses were probably floating around the Pacific Ocean and would wind up on the shores Japan–or close to it…
A few months later, when Hong Kong celebrated its’ independence, a friend of mine back in New Jersey said that while she watched the coverage, she noticed a man who was shown leaning into the water in the HK harbor to fish out…a pair of sunglasses. Knowing my story, she said that all she could think of was, “*THERE* ARE DAN’S SUNGLASSES!” Yeah, at least someone finally got some use out of them…
Still, I think your “sh*tty” experience might just top mine. Thanks for letting me borrow your blog space for my story, Tinman!
(As an extra [and space-consuming] aside, I continue to have an underlying fear of losing my prescription glasses I now wear. Will we be forced to get those silly “librarian chains” to make sure our glasses don’t fall off? EEK!)
~Dan
OK, you see RJ in the daylight, and then your subconscious causes you to blind yourself?
(Note to self: be sure all RJ-centric plans are well after sundown.)
Tin Man, you’ve got a real Portnoy edge these days.
I’m sorry, Tinnie. Bill’s right, this is the kind of thing that happens when I emerge from my deluxe velveteen coffin before sundown. Of course, I have blogged my own version of the story…
After a long day of work, feeling shit because my husband is still away for work for the third day and won’t return until late this evening, I fell of my chair with laughter. Thank you for making me feel a little less down.
I’m very sorry you have lost your glasses.
I like the absurdistic turn in the story from meeting another blogger on the street to the excrements of the New York population. great writing!
I’ve never lost a personal object on the toilet, though I did once lose a bar of soap that way: I grabbed it while the water was still swirling, then lost my grip. I also once dropped my favorite baseball cap in the not-yet-clean water, and just as I was about to go out. (Of course, I could have been out already, and using someone else’s bathroom…)
How terrible! I’m sure there were better ways you could have spent Dubya’s “refund.”
I’m with Dan on this one…the fear of losing my glasses has long been a neurosis of mine. It makes tall buildings and rollercoasters less enjoyable, too. So if it’s a choice between Librarian Chains or Raw Sewage…? Um…Can I think on that one for a minute?
OK for the fear of losing your glasses… But have you ever panicked : “nobody moves! my contact lens has just fallen on the floor! (damn! where is it? can’t see it…)” ?
Of course, all this happening in a very busy crowdy area…