Paranoia and other pleasant things

Shrink in the big city III

A swarm (a flock? a school? … a herd? ) of psychologists was already there, including Erika, my coworker. I barely had time to catch my breath when four ladies entered, their hands full of files, and announced that everybody had to get out. So we did, all 150 of us, to a hallway about the size of the one I have in my apartment. Sardines and cattle going to the slaughterhouse had nothing on us, for we were packed more efficiently than they’ll ever be. I removed delicately my elbow from a tall guy’s groin and went to sit on some stairs until they said my name and I got in the exam room.

The questioning was short and sweet, but then again I was benefiting from the grandfather clause so I was just asked about where, what and with which tests I work, told that I’m a clinical specialist in psychology now (whee? OK, whee!) and it was over.

The cabbie was gone, there were no other cabs around and the tram line was out of order so I braced myself for another slow cooking session (it was 41 centigrades in the shade and around 60 in the sun, I kid you not. And I was in the sun.) and proceeded to find my way back to the subway on foot. With the help of a few fellow pedestrians (hey Transylvania! Bucharestians actually give you indications when asked for direction! Myth busted!) and the loss of a liter of body water I was back in the underground . Another phone for directions to Anne later, some laughing when two Australians asked me for orientation and the bus was taking me back to my friend’s place. Who was dressed up and ready to go to Barka Saffron, an Indian Restaurant where we had reservations. I died a little when I realized there wasn’t time for another shower but we were late already so I accepted the fact and tried to concentrate on my stomach imminent well-being , not my skin’s misery .

The directions Anne had from somebody to find the place were a bit off so we wandered around for another twenty minutes, phoning Ina, the other friend who was waiting for us in the restaurant . Finally we were there, a fine mist greeting us when we entered from some cleverly concealed hoses on the roof. The prices scared me a little since I didn’t had a lot of money left so I ordered only one course and a strange (but goooood) lime-basil-something cocktail with tons of ice. We chartered between the bar (where the girls were drinking Caipiroskas and the table, chatting about ex rocket scientist coworkers and the good or evil nature of the Rottweilers.

The food was delicious. I never tasted Indian before but I’m definitely hooked for life. Anne sent me some pictures of our food she took , but since I’m an hour away from leaving on a short vacation, I’ll probably post them when we’ll be back. If my laziness doesn’t get in the way of course.

After finishing lunch, we went through the mist again, asked a Pakistani cutie Anne spotted to take our pic (which he gladly obliged to, but not before asking if he could be in it, which me and Ina, being heartless married girls, declined) and crossed the street to find a cab, much to our Anne’s dismay, since she was seconds away from exchanging phone numbers with the guy. The cab turned out to have AIR CONDITIONING! so we enjoyed a short period of well-being before being thrown out in the hell again. A stop to Ina’s headquarters followed, where we met Aiax, her gentle (and very, very sociable) Rottweiler.

The train station seemed a lot friendlier than the day before and after some heartfelt goodbyes I got on the train. The trip back was uneventful and around midnight I was in my bed again. Home, sweeeeeet (and cool) home.

Posted under: chestii