My first real day in Newark was ADORABLE. I went into a shoppe known as “Walgreen’s” and the young lady in there seemed very exasperated and said, “Man, it’s so busy today…” I said, “How much longer do you have to work?” She said, “Till 12:30 tonight.” I said, “Oh, I’m sorry.” She said, “It’s okay.”
I sojourned to another shoppe that sold things all at the price of 99 cents! There I purchased a garbage pail for the kitchen. I asked the shopkeep if there might be a bigger pail anywhere? She said that if I did not see one back there, one did not exist, then added, “The truck is supposed to come and deliver more tomorrow. I HOPE it comes.” I chuckled good-naturedly.
On my way back to my apartment, I came upon an older woman having trouble attempting to shutter the windows of her shoppe. She appealed to me for assistance, I believe in Spanish, but it might have been Portuguese. I closed the shutter for her and she, realizing I was an English-speaker, said “Thank you.” “You’re welcome,” I said, then added, “De nada.” She said something or another that I think meant I’d chosen the right language. I think.
All in all, I felt like a right ’50s gadabout of the town, friendly to all, helpful to some!
