9.13.2004

Just finished stocking the fridge with groceries. I bought more food than usual, wanting to try out a couple of new recipes I found on line. I usually take the train from the store, but today I learned that not only can I get groceries delivered to my home, but I can catch a ride in the delivery guy’s van.

This seems like a good idea, until the driver comes into view. A heavy- set guy wearing a black porkpie hat and matching bowling shirt warns me not to try to open the side door of the van myself.

“it’s tricky,” he says of the 70ish model clunker.

What happens if I need to make a quick get away I wonder as I climb on to the backseat. The van’s interior smells like a pile of unwashed clothes. The driver who looks like a bouncer- or an unusually clothes- conscious serial killer- attempts to rack up extra business as he loads the van. The shoppers look vaguely frightened, and politely decline his offers.


Next time I think I’ll take a cab.