N.Y. / REGION | METROPOLITAN DIARY
In 2005, I was wheeling my suitcase along the street after some time browsing in a toy shop near Grand Central Terminal featuring stuffed animals. When I got halfway down the block, I noticed alarmed looks from passers-by. A young boy looked at me and said, “Oh, how gross.”
A middle-aged woman looked down near my shoes, crossed herself and muttered, “Oh, Mamma Mia.”
Suddenly the saleslady from the store, with long curly hair flowing in the wind, came running after me. “Lady, lady,” she said, laughing gleefully and pointing to the bottom of my suitcase.
My wheels had gotten caught on a long gray stuffed toy with red spots on its chest, and as the poor thing was dragged along the street it looked like fresh road kill. The saleslady picked up the unscathed animal and ran back to the store, waving at everyone and giggling.
Emilie C. Harting