Holy Shit

I'm in this part of Brooklyn, in this very Jewish dominated area of the Hessidic persuation (you pronounce the 'H' like you are going to cough up some phlegm), in this I-shall-not-name hospital whose Board of Directors is 99% Jewish, minding my own business. I figure - save some money and brown bag my lunch, which has been sitting in my locker since 630 in the morning. It's now 4 pm. I tuck my brown bag under my arm and march to the cafeteria, which at this hour is half empty, save for the cashiers, some lay cafeteria workers, and the Jewish boss, in his long white beard and his Yarmulke, in the corner of the cafeteria, bent over his calculator. No, I am not making this up and this, in no way shape or form, constitutes anything antisemitic akin to what drunken Mel Gibson said to his arresting officer as he was caught doing 87 in a 45 zone in posh Malibu.

My lunch consists of the healthy Mango and a couple of kiwis. And no, I wasn't on that diet by choice, more like where-the-hell-is-financial-aid-when-you-need-it diet (I am sure my fellow Rossians can commiserate). I take my seat in the empty cafeteria, whip out my home-brought paring knife, slice open the mango, slurping it up. The kiwis were halved. At this point, I had to steal a cafeteria spoon to spoon out the kiwis when the cashier catches my eye. She's hispanic and whips her head to one side, as a deluge of A-T-T-I-T-U-D-E floods my way.

Oh-oh, I was in the process of wiping the spoon clean with my mouth and slipping it back into its plastic sheath as the attitude walks my way, wagging her index finger.

"'Scuse me," she says. "ASS-cuese me."

I gulp down the rest of the kiwi, skin and all. Jeeze minese, it's just a damn plastic spoon.

"Ass-cuese me, you're not 'spose ta bring outside food heer....."
I protest with my squinty eyes...

"It's not been blessed by the Rabbi." She raises her eyes and stares in the direction of the old man in the corner with the calculator.

Wow. I think I would have felt better if it was the plastic spoon that got me in trouble, instead, it was heathen mango and kiwis. It wasn't even pork!

So the next day, I eat at the cafeteria, some chicken swimming in unknown sauce and spanish rice, of all things. But I felt a whole ton better about myself. Now in the LEAST I can say I will have Holy Shit in about a day or two.

I should have seen this one coming for two days earlier as I was appeasing myself with breakfast at the cafeteria, I was searching for some meat with my eggs for what are breakfast eggs without the meat? I smile at the cook with this incredulous smile I have and said:

"Sir, can I have some bacon or ham with those eggs?"
The black cook, eyes wide, trying to stifle some laughter, says to me very grandfatherly: "Honey, don't go saying that too loud, now. You know you are in a Kosher Hospital, don't you?"

Holy Shit!