mystery meat

I’ve lived in NYC for over 25 years.  I’ve been stopped on the street to buy candy.  Stopped to sign petitions.  Stopped to meet political candidates.  Stopped and handed yogurt samples.  Stopped and given flyers on liquidation sales. But not once have I ever been stopped to buy meat.

M decides to get on the road early and head home.  She packs up (suitcase, garment bag, ex ski boot bag with three pairs of shoes, not including the ones she’s wearing, computer bag, and shopping bag).

We walk the few blocks to where she parked her Yukon.  We’re taking bets on whether or not the car will still be there.  M thinks it will be stolen and imagines the thief’s surprise when he/she finds out what it costs to fuel that beast. We turn onto 81^st and First Ave and the car is there.  I can’t tell if M is relieved or not.

M opens the door to get in, and a man materializes out of nowhere to ask if she wants to buy some meat.  He is wearing a white butcher’s coat, imprinted with the name Park Avenue Meats.

M: What?

Man: How about some steaks?

M: What are you talking about?

Man: Lady, I got some nice steaks.  Beautiful.  Great price.

M: Uh, no, I’ve got a 4-hour drive ahead of me.  They’ll spoil.  But my friend here likes steak.

Me:  (I can’t believe she sics him on me!) Ah, no thank you.

Man:  C’mere.  You gotta see how nice these are.

M: Lyn! Go see! You like steak.

Me: (I realize then that M cannot pass up a deal.  Any deal.)  Okay.  I’ll take a look.

So now I'm following this guy to the back of his beat-up orange Honda Odyssey.  He opens the trunk and shows me a whole tenderloin in vacuum-sealed packaging.  I tell him it’s too much meat for me. 

Man:  Yes, but you can cut them up into steaks.

Me:  No, no….

Man:  It sells for $120.  You can just give me $70.

Me: No, really, but thank you anyway.

Man:  Okay.  Ill take $60.

Me: No. I don't have room for all that meat.

Man: Okay.  How about some baby salmon then? (He takes out a box of frozen salmon steaks).

Me: No, no…nothing.  Thank you.

Just then, a fire truck attempts to pass the man’s Honda Odyssey that is double-parked in the street, blocking passage for the fire truck.  The fireman blows the horn for the man to move.

           Man: (Screaming at the fire truck):  Shut the f—k up.

M: Lyn, LYN!  Get in the car!

I hurry in, leaving the man with his trunk full of steaks and salmons.  As M and I pull away, we see the man approaching other unsuspecting targets.

And I thought real estate was hard!