Sunday, November 1, 2020

When Pain is All Around

Broccoli Bar in Brooklyn

After a very troubling day I was met last night at my outside door by a husband with a sack full of food, like a bridge over troubled waters.  Broccoli Bar on the corner recently opened in the same location as the debacle that was the Brisket Brothers.  This sounded odd but promising.  Any new spot nearby coming into cold weather is welcomed.   
I had mentioned interest but I could tell a restaurant named after a green vegetable was not top of P's lists of things to try.  But he did and it was great! The large bowl comes with all hot bar items, Rice Dumplings, Tempura, Stir Fry, BBQ, Pakora and rice.  Every bite was delicious and a new taste sensation.  I loved it!  We're not vegans but never did I miss the meat and I could not eat the whole thing.  You can get sauces and toasted crunch as well as pickled vegetables on top.  Those were super refreshing and a great compliment to all of it.  

I don't know if it was last night's blue moon, that some people were hung over from too many spirits the night before, the upcoming election or a bit of all but coworkers were especially riled up.  My dear friend the bully, had to call 911 for her husband who is suffering from Parkinson's and ran off the floor in a panic, visibly shaken and this was in the middle of a full line of customers.  I won't share with you the intense exchange we had before she left but I can tell you that it left me feeling the weight of her life.  Two of the other women also had high anxiety, especially the girl with Asperger's as she wandered around stating loudly how uncomfortable she is with taking appointments in-person inside the store, a forced policy that is happening even though most of the staff feels safety precautions are not in place.  I could be her psychiatrist at this point, I am so familiar with her triggers.  She just needs to sit and talk in order to calm herself but I couldn't be that girl for her today.  I felt bad but I was also caught in my own spiraling uneasiness.    Then later, the ride home felt downright ominous too.  Cars were running red lights, a new common behavior I see due to less cops on the road.  Coming down the street we used to live, a car was driving down the wrong way and another guy was backing up at high speeds toward me at another point.  When the road is wet at night it's harder to see bikes but I had more than a couple of close calls and got the feeling that the drivers are full of rage.  That they might not care if they did hit me.  I read later that night that a biker was hit and killed.  The driver fled the scene and left him for dead.  He was a hard working Mexican pizza delivery guy from Puebla, Ernesto Guzman, only 42 years old.  I hope that on this Dia de Muertos that he was guided home by the spirits.  I also wonder if all the soul's wandering the planet were trying to warn the living to be extra careful in the coming days.  

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