Late this afternoon the repercussions of having the battery in my camera run out on Saturday became much more frustrating than simply not being able to snap a decent picture of Al Trautwig. I had a brief respite from the much hated work which has kept me in a constant state of stressed-out vegetation for the past month or two and was actually heading up the block to purchase a new battery when I spotted a man in a carrot suit that I've noticed a few times before around the office handing out some sort of flyers to passersby (I'm guessing Fresh Direct but have never let me get close enough to me to know for sure) approaching from the opposite side of the street. "Perfect," I thought, "I will run in, get the battery, and then be able to snap a few carrot-man photos on my way back". Just then a bike messenger whipped through the intersection and side-swiped the carrot, who had either not seen him barreling down upon him due to a lack of peripheral vision or was just unable to jump back quickly enough inside the bulk of the suit. The messenger veered violently but regained control without wiping out and with a shout of "Bitch!" over his shoulder pedaled furiously up 55th without stopping, while the carrot toppled backwards onto his vibrant orange ass and lay helpless on the pavement. I, of course, after a brief instant of shock and awe, sprinted like a jackrabbit right past the victim to try to get a freaking battery into my camera immediately (in my defense, I feel that this evidence may have been very useful if any litigation ensued, plus a businessman who had been walking right next to the vegetable had already stopped and was reaching down to help as I scooted by). But some bastard was picking up photographs ahead of me and by the time I got back to the scene there was nary a carrot in sight. Which meant that he wasn't badly injured, I guess, and that's good and all, but still... fuck! And then to compound my frustration I didn't even have time to write about it here when I returned, and I don't have any co-workers in the office anymore to tell this or any other story to. I briefly pinged a friend about it, but really wasn't able to explore the craziness of the event properly with my stupid clients also instant messaging me at the same time (because after a few major AIMing screw-ups last fall I've tended to avoid any lengthy online conversations unless I'm completely unbusy and unstressed, and neither of those has been the case for quite awhile now). Beyond just missing a great photo opportunity the whole situation had me getting very down and depressed about my lonely, boring, pain in the ass job situation on my way back home. Then while eating dinner I decided that at least I could find some images online and Photoshop up a recreation of the accident:


and while I was putting the finishing touches on that it suddenly occurred to me that even though my job is pretty uninspiring and tedious and I really have to seriously start trying to find something a little more fulfilling soon, what must it be like to have to walk around Manhattan in the freezing cold and slushy accumulation, probably for not much more than minimum wage, inside a goddamned carrot suit all day? So thank you for the perspective, Mr. Carrot, I'm sorry that I was not entirely thinking of you as an actual person until just now, and I hope you are okay.