Many of you may not know this, but in the summer of 2001 I worked at Magnolia Bakery. They had expanded their business to include ice cream which they wholesaled to Citarella and Gourmet Garage and also sold it from an ice cream cart that was parked outside on the corner of West 4th and Bleeker. I worked scooping ice cream at said cart. It was a decent job for a college student, the tips were good, and the clientele was annoying but tolerable as long as they tipped. I endured the same nervous laughter, followed by the inevitable, “I don’t know how you do it, if I worked here I’d be SO fat” day in and day out. I was vegan at the time. On slow rainy afternoons I even had time to hang out and read “Please Kill Me” behind the cart.
When it was time to close up I had to carry the register and all the scoops inside the bakery. One night while I was carting the register inside a customer came up to the cart. He asked if we were closed and I answered yes. I’d had a long day and the register was closed for the night. Plus I’d already taken the scoops and the water buckets inside. His annoyed voice asked, “Does that mean I can’t get any ice cream?”
“We’re closed,” I repeated irritably. It was then I looked up and realized that I was talking to Lou Reed. Funny thing, I had just finished reading the part of “Please Kill Me” where he asks someone to shit in his mouth and upon refusal he offered up the option of shitting on a plate instead.
He was taller than I expected and was walking a chihuahua. It was immediately clear that I recognized him.
“Are you sure I can’t get any ice cream?” He asked smirking, with an emphasis on the “I”. He seemed so sure that he now had the upper hand.
I paused, pondering things for a second. He seemed like such a prick so I responded, “Yes, I’m sure YOU can’t get any ice cream.”
He made an audible appalled scoffing noise at me, looked incredibly disgusted, and stormed off, chihuahua in tow. I never saw him again.