Cock(roach) Boss

Today began with promise.  I woke up early and clear-headed, ready to go answer phones for WFMU's pledge drive, something I had been looking forward to for a week or so.  I showered and headed out the door with tons of time to spare.  Look at me! Volunteering! Clean and punctual and optimistic and good-sore from exercise!  It was warm in the sun, and the wind whipped my hair into ten kinds of great crazy.

I boarded the PATH train and headed for New Jersey.  I listened to music really loudly and smiled at my reflection, far on the other side of the car.  The Pathvision monitor offered up two way too easy scrambled word puzzles. I rolled my eyes, "m-u-n-d-a-n-e and o-r-d-i-n-a-r-y".  Pffft.  

As the train approached Hoboken, I opened my purse to reapply lip gloss.  Normally, the contents of my purse are: 4 or 5 different kinds of lip product, a tangle of receipts, a few sets of keys, 2 hair elastics, and a few loose almonds.  But I've been trying to pare down.  So today, my purse contained just a handful of receipts, a jar of harissa (don't ask), and a giant cockroach.  A giant, "Girl on Fear Factor Eats This Thing to Pay For Big(ger) Fake Boobs" kind of cockroach.  My first thought was, "Oh God.  That is some Naked Lunch type shit, Jim." 

I quickly zipped my purse back up.  I blinked my eyes about 15 times.  I thought about Naked Lunch some more, and The Metamorphosis, which had actually come up in conversation yesterday.  I wondered if the cockroach would offer me any wisdom.  The Pathvision told me that my horoscope involved being careful about what I spend my money on.  Kanye West's Power came on my iPod.  I stopped looking for messages and meaning.  I had a giant bug in my fucking purse.  End of fucking story.

I opened my purse again.  It was still there, and unmistakably alive.  Its antennae were easily an inch long, and as I stared at the thing, they rotated around in twitchy circles.  I zipped my purse up again.

I fumbled for my camera, knowing that nobody would ever believe this story.  When I opened my purse again, the cockroach was gone.  I got off the train at the next stop without thinking.  I walked in a whipping wind, trying to find an abandoned corner where I could quickly empty out my bag.  

But it was rush hour, and I was in a very cute and tidy corner of New Jersey.  

And so I had to walk awhile before I found a quiet enough stretch to do what I had to do.  Which is how I found myself on Carlo's Bakery Way.  Yes, that Carlo's Bakery.  Which is how I found myself emptying my purse in front of the home of THE CAKE BOSS, wondering what he would say if he stumbled across me on all fours, feet away from his place of business.  "Heh! Yeah! I'm just gonna do my thing with a roach cake!" It was fruitless in the end.  The roach had completely disappeared.  At least to my naked eye.

Oh, but also?  WFMU isn't in Hoboken, and I was cutting it close on time.  I'd jumped off the train before making the transfer that would actually get me to Jersey City.  It's not far, but still.  Sigh.  I zipped up my purse, I jumped in a cab, and hustled over to the radio station.  With a cockroach the size of a big toe in my purse.  I answered some calls, I met some lovely people, I ate a donut.  I kept my purse closed.

When I got back to Manhattan, I emptied it the bag out again.  I could have just stomped all over it to ensure that I killed the bug, but...I didn't want it to die, even though it was a cockroach.  Hopefully, he's out there giving someone else a pretty ridiculous story to tell.