Sunday, June 14, 2009

I stopped just as the red stained cherry pit flew past my knees, through the legs of other shoppers and then struck the pavement rolling away out of sight. It was a close call, but nothing to be upset about. A rogue cherry pit or two is simply one of the risks you take at a mid-Spring Farmer's Market.

I looked over to see a woman and her friend sitting on the curb cheerfully punishing a bag of very ripe and nearly black cherries. I could smell the fruit from where I was standing, but had decided to buy a small flat of blueberries and enough plums to last through the apocalypse and still have enough left over for sorbet. There's only so much fruit a single person can go through after all.

Next to the pit spitters was one of my favorite Hmong stands which I frequent every week. As I moved over to the side, avoiding the bitter melons I began to peruse over a new type of chili I had never seen before. They were medium length, verdant and gnarled like the fingers of some fairytale crone.

I was encouraged to bite into one and found it sweet and palatable, something that would do well in a stir-fry with shallots and thai peppers. I would tell you the name but I am unaware how to type the phonemes necessary - not that I know them or the spelling - and even then I'm not sure Blogger can even type them.

I grabbed a handful and popped them in the bag. The lady behind the counter weighed it and told me the price. I began to get out my money when suddenly I felt a something small and wet strike the back of my neck with the tiniest thud that only I could hear. The object then tumbeled into my shirt collar and I could feel the tiny missile roll down my back leaving a small juicy trail until it fell out at the bottom. I looked and between my feet was a small cherry pit coming to a rolling stop.

A small look of horror and disgust crossed my face. I turned towards my attackers. The woman with the bag of cherries looked at me horrified for only a split second then turned her head, shying away from eye contact. If I did not see her face, I could not possibly blame her, I suppose was her theory. Her friend was blushing out of embarrassment that comes with association.

"Augh, god! You nasty bitch!"

It was then my turn to be horrified as it dawned on me that I had apparently yelled that loud enough to stop everyone near me dead in their tracks. Given, I'm not one to yell such things at total strangers. In fact, it's just damn right out of character for me - but when someone spits on you, well, all bets are off. I blame the show True Blood where I heard the phrase and now had started using it with gusto. I quickly followed up on my outburst to convince the surrounding populous that it was, indeed, appropriate.

"You spit a cherry pit at my head and it rolled down my shirt! That's just vile! Spit them at the ground or back into your bag!" I smacked the back of my neck with my hand and slowly pulled it across feeling the slime streak across my palm. I looked at it and saw the inky red juice had made a short smear. I could feel my lip curl with complete revulsion. I then showed it to the woman who looked at it, cringed, and apologized.

As I slowly wiped off my back and apologized myself for the "nasty bitch" comment and I told her that I understood it was an accident but to watch where she spat her pits.

I walked back to the car pissed that I had just done my laundry the other day. Cherry juice stains like hell on a good cotton shirt. A shudder went through my body. "Ugh... gross," as I wiped my neck again.


  1. yuck. she deserved the nasty bitch comment.

  2. I would have been so mortified. I'm glad you accosted her about it. I would deem the same action appropriate for watermelon seeds, sunflower seed shells, and chewing tobacco. Gross.

  3. check your pockets. i really think you have an idiot magnet. or maybe...maybe you were abducted by aliens, and they sewed one into your skin and are now conducting a study of human folly from somewhere around mars.

  4. I don't think anyone deserves to be called a bitch for accidentally spitting a pit at your neck. Sure it was gross but you could have handled that more gracefully.

  5. Sugar: ;)

    Cresencio: Spitting seeded food is okay in my opinion. You only spit at another person when you have both agreed to the war. ;)

    Taiyyaba: I have considered this. That or God is getting hyucks at my expense. Who says She doesn't have a sense of humor?

    Annonymous: Please sign your comments. Also, like I said, it was straight up reaction. I like to think I actually held back quite a bit and am proud of myself for doing so. Anyways, there were apologies on both sides so it all worked out.

  6. I agree with your response. spitting seeds at people is not something that should be done in "normal" polite society, especially at random strangers!
    I have never spit cherry pits at anyone - I usually put them in a napkin or bag if I can.
    I can't believe an adult did that - and didn't shout out "sorry!!" immediately - she deserved all the embarrassment she got.

    Sorry your moron magnet is fully charged again.

  7. Did you end up paying for the peppers?

    I've been accosted by random fruit spitting in the past, I found my first reaction was laughter. I was so grossed out all I could do was giggle in frustration.

    Hope it comes out in the wash!

    (PS True Blood's good for those one liners, hunh?)

  8. Nasty...definitely. Bitch....as inappropriate as spitting on people. Rudeness in abundance. The truest test to our character comes when we are "squeezed". Squeeze an orange and you get orange juice. Squeeze ourselves and what comes out? Nothing personal...I'm just saying.

  9. How juvenile! I just spilled blackberry on a white blouse and Tide2Go got it right off.

  10. Ew. That is totally gross. My gut response would probably have been the same. If not worse. Thanks for sharing, you made my bad day seem minor in comparison!

  11. That is ridiculous. I find it hard to imagine that this woman accidentally spit in your direction.

    I tend to be a very reserved person, and an anger bottler. But I think if I were in your shoes, I would have gone postal.

  12. Farmer's markets are wildly multicultural, maybe spitting pits at a stranger is form of compliment in Southeast Asia or something... You should have smiled and dropped a well chewed watermelon rind down the front of her shirt.


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