Late, en route to a job, my sugar suddenly drops causing me to feel faint.
Stupidly skipping breakfast in my frenzy to leave realize, if I don’t eat something fast I’ll be in big trouble.
I have no cash, no time to go to the bank, so I hop to the 24 hour fruit vendor standing half asleep on the corner. You have to wonder, who the hell’s buying papayas at 3 A.M., but there he is, in all his sleepy splendor.
“Excuse me,” I say, “but if I promise to pay you later, can you front me a banana?”
As an aside, a banana, like a rocket, spikes your sugar right up.
Fruit kid, all of 20, doesn’t respond, just stares at me like I’m a ghost from banana past.
I repeat myself. Before finishing my sentence, he grabs a half dozen, shoving them into my open tote.
“No, no,” I say, “I really only need one, and I promise to pay you the quarter when I get back (4 for a dollar).”
He then adds another 6, like I was Cheetah.
I look at my watch. Shit, I gotta go, thanking him over my shoulder, bananas hanging out of my bag like drunken sailors, sailing to the train.
The law of the jungle, according to writer Anne Lamott…