I was so so excited to take my new cart out for a spin in Park Slope. And the fridge was empty, and some shopping needed to be done, so tonight was the night. You know, one of those old lady/ homeless lady carts that everyone has in Brooklyn
W was skeptical. It was already 7:30 pm when I was able to go. And I was going to the food coop, 18 blocks away. “Don’t walk back, I’ll pick you up in the car when you’re done,” he said. But persistent me* insisted that no, I was going to use my new cart.
Going there, with the cart folded was no sweat. W escorted me, using the walk as the dogs’ nighttime poop excursion. But coming back…
I didn’t even make it to the number streets before the cell phone was out calling my car service. That’s a bit park slope insidery, but trust me, no more than 2 blocks. There were a few reasons why I needed the bailout:
- Swivel wheels or no, sidewalks are bumpy. I lost a 9-grain organic baguette before I got to the first corner
- Oh crap, is it really 9:30 pm? Looks like someone spent too much time shoveling bulk organic israeli cous cous into her parchment bags
- Cart driving is not as easy as it looks, especially weighed down. Damn you swivel wheels!!
- At the pace I was going, the 15 minute walk would have been 40
- There’s nothing like walking down the street in Brooklyn at 9:30 pm with $125 worth of groceries in a slow moving cumbersome cart, without seeing any of the usual crowds of nannies/ hyper moms/ hipsters (Brooklyn closes early!), and having just finished novel set in Park Slope that had a continuous theme that gentrified, schmentrified, you’re still in Brooklyn, to remind you that — holy shit, I’m going to get mugged, aren’t I.
- The few people I did pass were laughing at me
So I parked my cart in front of the closed but well lit hardware store. Out came the iPhone and I dialed my knight in shining armour, and by knight I mean a guy nice enough to pause the Islander game, and by shining armour I mean ’99 Accord (it is silver).
There is little more humiliating than standing on an empty sidewalk in front of a gated up hardware store with a cart filled with organic produce and having your boyfriend pull over, get out of the car, put the groceries in the trunk… and then fold up your sorry cart and put it in the backseat. FAIL.
* I’m actually one of the least persistent people you’ll ever meet. I typically give up quite easily. would have served me well, yet again.