Saturday, February 23, 2008


I went to use an indoor Bank of America ATM in the East Village last night.

Following me in was a group of four white and bubbly NYU kids. Two girls, two boys.

They wouldn't shut up. They were happy about something. Looking forward to something. Talking about a bar they were going to later or something.

One of the girls used the ATM next to me. She continued talking back to the three friends who waited behind her. "Oh my god! I'm soooo low on money!" she said in such a happy-go-lucky manner that it was hard for me to believe it was true. Incredulously, she and her friends giggled at her peppy lament.

How low on money does a tourist/student like that have to get before she loses that fucking sing-song tone to her voice?
I thought as I clicked "View Balance" on my own screen.

The other girl shouted to her friend at the ATM, "You and Mike should get married and get a joint account!"

This got another hearty laugh out of the group. One of the guys, probably Mike, asked, "Yeah, how about it, Jamie?"

The girl at the ATM, presumably Jamie, shouted back, "Yeah, get a joint account! Start sharing all the responsibilities and everything!"

There was another big laugh. Mike's friend, the other of the two guys, chimed, "Whoa, you guys are getting pretty serious here!"

And then another big fucking laugh!

"I don't know," smiled Jamie as she gleefully pressed away at her screen, "maybe Mike's not ready for that much responsibility!"

"Oh, I think I can handle a joint account" laughed Mike, along with everyone else but me.

Jamie mused girlishly, "Well, maybe we should get a joint bank account! Be all grown-up and everything!"

My head was starting to hurt. "Why don't you shut the fuck up before I stab you to death?" I muttered to myself.

At least I thought I muttered this to myself. Apparently, Jamie heard me.

"What did you just say?"

"I'm sorry," I said, "I was just thinking out loud."

"Seriously, what did you just say?"

I took my cash from the ATM as the three other friends gathered around Jamie. "I don't know. Something about stabbing you guys to death if you didn't shut up."

Mike stepped in and tried to be cavalier, "Dude, what's your problem?"

"Well, you guys wouldn't shut up about joint bank accounts and marriage and all that bullshit, so I wanted to stab you to death. Sorry about that."

Jamie's friend, the other thing with a college girl's body, huffed: "You're a psycho."

"Yes I am," I said, stuffing my twenty in my front pocket. "And don't you forget it."