News Flash: Three Iced Mochas, Bad Customer Service And A Stranded Space Ship.

Couldn't leave with out posting this. Must vent. Okay, from the beginning. So look, yesterday it was warm and sunny, I was wearing cotton pants, there was a nice breeze and somehow I got it in to my head I'd deviate from my daily, trusted and loved elixir of an iced mocha and try an iced white chocolate mocha. Okay, let's just let this topic die and I promise not to bring it up again. I mention it only now as it plays a role in the events which follow. I know, I know--white chocolate mocha. Sweet baby Jesus, what was I thinking.

Okay, so it was actually my second drink of the day. Then of course, to get the taste out of my mouth, I had to get another iced mocha. So yeah--read on knowing I was pretty fueled and accept partial responsibility for what ensued.

Get home after work and decide Ella needs to see Big Lizard. So we head to Toys R' Us, my precious little 30 pounder in my arms, carrying our flying saucer. Flying saucer rocks. Its foam, 'bout ten inches in diameter, radio controlled. Flies thirty feet in the air. Or in our case, eleven feet in the air in to the ceiling of our apartment. But its not charging properly so I throw it in a bag and we head to Times Square. Slow train, so by the time we hit the Square, El's already yawning. Its like quarter to seven which means its her dinner time, bath time in bed by 8:30pm.

I go directly to customer service, hand over the saucer. Indifferent sales girl looks it and me over, asks what the problem is. I tell her it won't hold a charge. She must work extremely long hours and be incredibly fatigued because it takes her tremendous physical effort and copious amounts of mental exertion to lift the nine ounce foam toy, carry it approximately three feet away and plug it in to the wall.

I can tell she's fatigued because she's constantly rolling her eyes and exhaling. Three minutes go by as she stands there, not saying a word and fixing her hair. Then she looks at me like I just farted. "You need to go get a replacement...". Oh, thanks for telling me when I first arrived instead of waiting three minutes. By the way, love the hair. So now I have to lug baby-girl back up to the second floor, fight through the crowd and grab a replacement. I should've known things were already going downhill and not going to get better.

Ten minutes later I get back, wrestling with Ella who's now officially not having fun, put the new box on the counter and the girl turns to me like I'm Rain Man and couldn't possibly tie my own shoes much less guess how many matches are in a box and snarls "This one ain't even broken. It works fine". Did I tell you about the part where I'd had three iced mochas? Yeah, this is where that whole caffeine thing comes in to play.

Ella's squirming, bitch-salesgirl and her posse of one other evil-retail wench are eyeing me and I feel my lip begin to quiver. Quiver like I'm morphing in to the Hulk. In fact, I can feel my pants and shirt begin to shred as my body mass increases and I start turning green. Really angry, pissed-off how-dare-you-fcuk-with-me green. Now Hulk must hurt puny humans.

Instead, I ask for a manager. Andrew shows up, all bright eyed and bushy tailed. Blah, blah blah. Immediately, these girls start going in to how the product isn't defective, but "Works fine...". More hair fixing and exhaling as Andrew fidgets, caught between an irate customer and uncaring staff. Long story medium, I leave there with a new flying saucer, ensuring Andrew I won't be back.

Of course, when I get home tonight Ella will jump in to my arms and shout "Big Lizard" and of course I'm not about to tell her Toy's R Us is a giant corporate entity with huge profit margins who could less about whether a small family on limited income gets a refund on their $19.99 flying saucer. So I'll probably see Andrew tonight, but the good news? I've only had one iced mocha so I should be fine.

And the moral of my story is this. I'm no better than anyone else. I walk by people every day, see them clawing and scratching their way through existence and as I pass throught the toxic vapor trail of their anger think to myself "Relax dude, its just a flying saucer. Take a deep breath and just chill, you're overreacting". But truth be told, when push comes to shove I'm getting a new, working godd*mn, flying saucer. Even if it takes me three iced mochas.