Today I decide to get a sandwich at the Jimmy John’s I found down the street for lunch. I lock my computer, put on my jacket, grab my book, and set forth to the elevator.
On the ride down, I share a conversation with a fellow from the support team. Small talk ensued:
“Are you from Chicago?”
I respond, “Nah, I’m from Maryland.”
“Isn’t it really cold out there?”
“Yeah, sometimes, but it’s not as cold as it gets here.”
We were about to discuss the current weather (it already feels like winter, where the heck did fall go?!) when we reach the bottom floor and go our separate ways.
I exit the building, walk west on Jackson until I reach the Jimmy John’s. I enter the small vestibule and then attempt to push open the door to the food place actual. It doesn’t budge. I see two young girls ahead of me through the glass pane. They look at me, but to my luck, don’t seem to laugh at my inability to operate a door. I push slightly harder and it finally snaps open. I step forward and give a slight nod, raised eyebrows, and light smirk to flaunt my triumph. One of the girls smiles and I proceed to the line to get my meal.
In line, I look back at the girl, she looks to be in her early to mid 20′s, blonde, and cute. It might be my imagination, but I think she is eyeballing my book, Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger. I start to imagine myself approaching her, saying some witty line about my struggles with doors that seem to have vendettas against me. Instead, I am snapped out of my musing by the cashier who takes my order.
After I pay for and receive my sandwich, I look back and see that the two girls have left. I walk back to the entrance to return to the office and see that one of the girls had forgotten her scarf nearly fallen on the floor, dangling off the lower footholds of the highchair. I exit outside and try to find them walking away, thinking I could catch up to them and bring them their scarf. It takes only a minute and I see them rounding the corner of Jackson and Franklin. I could try to run after them, but I had failed to grab the scarf myself since my hands were full with my book and food.
I stood there outside for a minute thinking I could valiantly rush in, grab the woolen scarf, run after the girls, and return it to them safe and sound. I contemplate the chivalrous nature of going out of the way to return something lost to a beautiful lady. I always wanted to do something impulsive, quixotic even.
I turn in the opposite direction to go back to the office, where I eat my lunch, uneventfully.
Then I think to myself, “Damn.”