I was waiting for my order at a West Village falafel place the other night when a thirtyish woman in a brightly patterned minidress skipped in and screeched, “Hi!”
I immediately thought “actress on an audition.”
“Can I have some falafel to go?” she boomed to the counter guy, who dutifully got to work on it as she exuded gratitude.
“You seem so happy,” said another woman there. “It’s making me happy.”
“That’s funny,” chirped the woman. “I’m actually very pissed! But my mother always said to enter a room smiling, so I’m smiling!”
Pause. Change of mood.
The actress lady scrunched her face, obviously auditioning for a dramatic part this time.
“I didn’t bring my credit card!” she moaned to the counter man. “Can I just drop by tomorrow?”
He half nodded OK, so she stuck two bucks in the tip jar, grabbed her falafel, trilled a loud “THANKS!,” and skipped out without another word.
“Did you notice she was doing accents?” I asked the assembled, emboldened by her zaniness.
“Yeah, I heard Australian at one point,” said the “happy” lady.
“Plus, her sundress had weird strings and tatters hanging from it,” I added, ever the reporter.
“And her necklace had a $300 price tag hanging from it!” chimed in a man.
She was probably going to pay for it tomorrow.
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on July 6, 2011