A Curtailed Shopping Run

This morning I woke up early and well-rested, though considerably irritated by the lack of toothpaste and so on. I determined to go to a shopping mall in Queens, and researched the subway route there. The subway stations here have halls where you can buy the tickets (metrocards) from the touch-screened machines, with cash or a VISA or, I think, a debit card. I only had tiny change and a $20 bill (the machine can only give change up to ca. $6.50), so a woman directed me to a booth with two attendants, one of whom gave me back a $10, a $5, and five $1 bills for my twenty. Then I passed one of the turnstiles, swiping my Metrocard along the designated groove, climbed down the stairs, and reached a station that looked pretty much like any other that I saw later. Steel pillars, in an I-shaped cross-section, stand at intervals along the gum-infested platform; movie posters on the faintly green, small-tiled walls; peeling paint on the ceiling. Someone in baseball cap, loose trousers, grey T-shirt, jacket, and sneakers was jogging in place enthusiastically as he listened to music, and at length he intoned aloud, "Isn't the mood electric?" (No.) and so on and so forth.

After changing my mind twice about which platform was the right one (again, no maps, only signs indicating the line's identity and the station's identity), I entered the correct train. It was packed and most people (of all ages and origins) didn't even have to hold on to the poles. At Court Square I went out, and searched in vain for the V train to Forest Hills. Or at least I think it was in vain, because there were three E trains that arrived and went as I was there, but not a single V train, even though the sign seemed to indicate that it was a shared platform. I felt like whimpering, out of exasperation and bewilderment, and did a little bit internally. But then I retraced my steps, got into the right train by luck, and then returned to Brooklyn. Temporarily I've given up on public transit, though.

There is a trio of grocery stores at the subway station, the one with the deli apparently being the least sleazy. But the deli store had everything except for toiletries, so I went into another store which had a large stock of no-name brands. I selected a Head&Shoulders shampoo whose container was dirty and had a dent in one side (they all were and did), a Colgate toothpaste tube that looked all right, and a deodorant. The cashier did not give me the three cents change that I was supposed to have, if I understood the price correctly, and no receipt, and he packed everything into an unmarked black plastic bag, so that this shopping felt very much like an underhanded monetary transaction. I suspect that many of the wares in the store are diluted and refilled into further containers. But being able to brush my teeth again was worth it.

I have $12.42 left, which I am hoarding to ensure that I can pay for transit to a currency exchange booth. No food, no aspirin (it ran out last night), nothing to drink except tap water (which I have resorted to a lot in the past two days). Fortunately, though the jaw is still swollen, my toothache is endurable now.