Greenpoint
Lorven Pharmacy
Culture on the Cheap
Buttplugs (in more ways than one)
This week I had the pleasure of going to the Post Office. Anyone truly in the know will tell you that going to the Greenpoint Post Office SUCKS. On any given visit you, the patron, can expect one (or more) of the following:
- A person who speaks no English whatsoever, but continues yelling at the Postal clerk anyway. These folks have the mistaken belief that 80+ decibels will enable the person on the recieving end to understand the salvos of Spanish/Russian/Polish/What-the-fuck being volleyed at them. It doesn’t.
- Someone who seeks to pick up a package without tendering ID and becomes outraged when he/she becomes aware that the rules do, indeed, apply to them too.
- A person trying to mail a package that might as well have “Fragile: anthrax inside” written on it. My favorite example of this phenomenon came right before last Christmas. I had to wait behind a woman who had brought in one of the sorriest-looking packages I have ever seen in my life. She had taken a mashed-up box, covered it with butcher paper AND THEN haphazardly wrapped it with duct tape. When confronted about this by an employee at the Post Office, this woman reverted to behavior #1 featured on this list.
This trip was no better, but it simply paled in comparision to the treasure trove I found on my way home (on Leonard Street).
Dog shit and plugs. Or if you prefer…
plugs and dog shit.
Call it whatever you want, it’s still a whole bunch of “what the fuck” if you ask me. A dude (talking on a cell phone) watched me as I took these pictures. I suppose my behavior struck him as being strange. And it probably is. But I suspect my eccentricities are nothing compared to the story behind this creation.
Miss Heather
Comments
One Comment on Buttplugs (in more ways than one)
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Rebecca11222 on
Mon, 15th Jan 2007 2:13 pm
My favorite experience at the Greenpoint PO was the day I first used the touch-screen postage device there. You know, you insert your credit or bank card into a machine in the interest of avoiding the window service line that winds its way out of the Post Office and ends in front of the steps at the 94th Precinct.
I don’t think the machine had been there very long. As I was using it, I sensed that someone was standing inappropriately close to me. I turned around, and there were 2 elderly ladies staring at me and the machine. I asked them if they needed to use it. They said they didn’t, so I went back to what I’d been doing. The grannies closed in. I’m sorry to say that I first suspected they were after my bank card information, but it finally dawned on me that they were engrossed in the miracle of touch screen postage. It was like the first automobile had rolled into the village.
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