My first inkling that this mission might not go as smoothly as hoped was when I attempted to enter the subway, headed downtown. It turned out that this was not possible. Do to the 'track work' that always seems to be going on in this neighborhood (The Lexington line rarely has track work. I'm just sayin') there were no downtown trains.
Now many would have simply turned around and gone home at this point, sure that the lack of downtown trains was an omen of what was to come. I would not be so easily thwarted, though. No, I am a survivor and I was not going to allow the lack of public transportation to keep me from my goal. I decided to go to the park and WALK (yes, WALK) the 1.75 miles to the store in question.
About 5 blocks into my journey I was hit with my second hurdle. My ass began to itch. And this, my friends, was no ordinary itch. It was like a fire of itchiness between my ass-cheeks, a blaze of itchy discomfort. I persevered, though, not one to crumble at the first sign of IAS.*
The IAS got worse, though, it went from a flare to a five alarm itchblaze in my pants, and I had to fight to keep my hand from diving back there and TCoSB*. Worried, now, I went up to Broadway to look for a Starbucks or other public restroom where I could take a few squares of toilet paper and attend to the matter.
I never found one.
No, my friends, I walked over a mile and a half suffering from IAS and not ONCE did I either allow my hand to stray below the equator and find my relief OR attempt a RBSS* I manned up.
Finally I reached Circuit City and, IAS still flaring, went inside. I went straight to the laptop bag section, not wanting to risk standing around and browsing other areas. I had a mission, my friends, and I would not be denied.
Their bag selection was junk. And, even worse, none of them had prices on them. That's right, they had a bunch of bags with no prices. It was anarchy. Big bags next to little bags. Little bags with no shoulder straps. Shoulder straps too small for human shoulders. And none of them with prices.
As I was looking at this pitiful collection of crappy bags a Circuit City Saleswoman approached and placed a bag, with no price on it, on the rack. She smiled at me, that Electronics Store Clerk smile that means "I'm going to act like you're a human being, but in reality I see you as an ATM machine." I thought about asking her the prices of some of the bags, but before I could open my mouth I realized how, exactly, the conversation would go.
Me: So, how much are these bags?
Clerk: Which one were you looking at.
Me: I DON'T KNOW, WOMAN, MY ASS IS ITCHING LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER. WHY DON'T THEY HAVE PRICE TAGS?
Clerk: Can I sell you an extended warranty?
I turned and walked out of that Circuit City bagless, but with my dignity. Then I took the subway home and spent 10 minutes scratching my ass.
I still don't have a laptop bag.
*Itchy Ass Syndrome
*Taking Care of Scratchin' Business
*Rubbing Based Scratching Solution.