Susan's Scribblings the Blog

To quote William Conrad in “Bullwinkle:” last time if you remember, I was ranting about a Euro coin I received as change and was having trouble getting rid of it.  Well, I was in New York City yesterday, and figured I could try some of the international currency exchange venues there to see if I could get something for it.  I was hoping at least for some sympathy or advice, and I went to three different facilities (one in a gift shop), and they all looked at me with that combination of world-weariness and pity that comes from a story they have heard before and for which they have no solution.  The problem is that no place takes coins for conversion, because they take commission for exchanging bills and paper currency, so one Euro coin is not worth their trouble.  It’s not even worth an iota of human kindness.  Two places suggested I keep it for a souvenir.

A souvenir of what? incompetence? My own lack of attention to what change I should have been given honestly and in good faith? Were they trying to shame me or make fun?

So here I am, in the United States of America, where people throw money away on the latest gadgets and alcohol and cigarettes they pee away or stub out when finished with them. America, where the penny is left on the asphalt in parking lots.  I should know better than to think anybody would put any notice of my stinking’ Euro. It’s MONEY, damn it!  Money!

It’s infuriating that one coin isn’t worth time and effort.  I will hang onto it, but not as a souvenir.  I intend to exchange the blasted thing if it takes me a year or more.  It is money, after all: change which would still have been of use to me did it not come from across the sea to inconvenience some store’s cash register to the point at which it was passed to me as the designated schmuck. So if you’re going overseas and would like a Euro coin, let me know.

Well, my visit to New York was not solely to get rid of the coin.  I went to the theatre for a second dose of a beloved show (performed by a beloved singer) and had a great time (more on that in the next blog: I’m not going to rant and then try to perk up the same story, so each gets its own spot). Women everywhere know that the best way to revive a day that starts out bad is to work up from the bottom, so I did the disappointing thing first, then saw the show and gave my hormones and spirit a good workout, then I went for some comfort food.

I visited the Cake Boss Cafe, TLC television personality and bakery owner Buddy Valastro’s latest venture to put an extension of his famous Carlo’s Bakery within the grasp of everybody.  The bakery is at the corner of the Port Authority Bus Terminal, and I stopped there on the way to serving a stretch of prolonged standing for the Greyhound out of town. Perfect place to stop, so you can grab a bite to eat before you get home, and you don’t have to tell the family (just make sure you don’t have cream or powdered sugar on you anywhere).

The bakery runs like your mom-and-pop anywhere in the country: take a number from the red dispenser of pointy-shaped tickets and wait to be called.  I was twelfth in line, and it moved fast.  Unfortunately the after-matinee crowd on a Saturday evening had snatched up the famous lobster tail pastries, but I did get my hands on Napoleons, which not many bakeries seem to do anymore.  Next time, it’ll be the cheesecake, or the cookies, or cannolis.  I lost a ton of drool just standing there waiting. It is a place well worth a visit and some expenditure for good pastry.  Next time I hope they double their production on those lobster tails and save some for me.