Page 44 of Big Sexy Love
‘I am pretty sure I haven’t. This is my first time in Manhattan,actually!’
The waitress frowns, her eyes flicking down to my bumbag. Then she shrieks. Really loudly. ‘Watch me piddle!’ she cries. ‘That’s it! Watch mepiddle!’
Ohshit.
She shouts so loud that all surrounding noise comes to a halt and everyone in the place turns around to stare. One person even lifts up the phone to take a pictureofme.
Noooooo!
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I lie immediately, trying to act casual. ‘Ooh, the smoked salmon on bagel sounds amazing. Can I have that please?Thankyou!’
The waitress shakes her pretty blonde head in confusion. ‘But… you sound like the piddle woman and you look like the piddle woman and your pink fanny pack isidentical.’
‘Actually mine has this cool sunshine hologram on it,’ I point out, realising a split second too late that I sound like anabsolutenerd.
‘Oh, it’s definitely you!’ a hipstery-looking bloke says from the table opposite, beaming with pleasure. ‘You areexactlythe same as the piddle woman. Did you really make someone watch you pee on a plane? Why would you do that? Is it a sexualthing?’
‘NO!’ I yell, my throat starting to tighten as everyone looks my way. ‘I don’t know what any of you are talking about! I just want to have some breakfast!’ I look at the waitress. ‘I just want a bagel with some smokedsalmon!’
‘Whether you know or not, you were definitely impersonated onSunday Night Livelast night,’ hipstery bloke’s female companion says. ‘I would watch it if Iwereyou…’
‘Definitely,’ the waitress adds, completely ignoring myorder.
This is so very awkward. I don’t think I’ve ever had this many people looking at me at the same time! I feel my brow start to get sweaty. I want to just spiral down onto the floor so they all stop staring. Doeseveryonein New York watchSunday NightLive?Argh!
A few other customers of the deli start to approach the area to ogle at me. One requests an autograph and a selfie. Another asks me if I want to accompany them to the nearest publicbathroom.
And that’s when I decide that enough isenough.
Face flaming, I jump up from the table, chair screeching across the floor. I jog out of Zabar’s and into the street. My stomach rumbles at my missed bagel, my whole body smarts withembarrassment.
I put up my umbrella and stand dumbly in the middle of the street, feeling completely exposed. I can’t go through the rest of my daylikethis!
Across the road I notice a grocery store. A little plan forms in my mind. I go in and ask them for a paper bag. Back outside, on the street, I unclip my pink bumbag and stuff it in the paper bag like it is some sort ofcontraband.
I breathe a sigh of relief. I love that bumbag, but thanks to horrible Seth Hartman, it is now a major identifiable feature of the piddle woman. I really loved wearing that as well. Right. I definitely need to hide my curls too. They made a big deal about how big my hair was in the sketch. And with the water quality here in New York they’re looking even more poofty than usual. I spot a chunky middle-aged man striding in my direction. He’s wearing a blackberet.
‘Excuse me?’ I call, jumping in front of him to get hisattention.
‘I ain’t interested, whatever it is!’ he grumbles,stompingpast.
Damn. I need a hat right away. I needthathat!
‘Please, sir!’ I yell after him. ‘I want to buyyourhat!’
The man stops walking and spins around. He takes a closer look at me under my umbrella. ‘You wanna buy this?’ he points at his head, eyebrows shooting up. ‘Howmuch?’
I shrug and lift my chin. ‘How muchyouwant?’
‘Fiftydollars.’
‘Ten dollars,’ I counter-offer, foldingmyarms.
The man’s scowling face breaks into a warm smile. He takes the beret off his head and hands it to me. ‘It cost me five bucks from a thrift store. It’s not even my favouriteberet.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ I say, giving him his money and taking theberet.
‘Hey,’ his eyes glint with recognition. ‘Don’t Iknowyou?’
