While I was waiting for my frappuccino (might as well call these concoctions milkshakes) at Starbucks, a poor girl kept trying different combinations on the keypad locked bathroom door, without success. I recalled a profanity laced rant that a friend of mine gave, lamenting the cutthroat nature of the city, especially concerning how every goddamn bathroom is locked up like Fort Knox. I gave the poor thing my most sympathetic frown which said, if I was in your position, I would piss in the blonde roast.

The barista called my name and as I reached for my drink on the counter, shrieked it again. "DEVIN!" she screamed at the other barista who also screamed, "DEVIN!" I looked between the two of them and chuckled nervously, before retreating upstairs to the seating area.

I pulled out a table to sit down, but before I could puzzle out what exactly happened downstairs, I found a massive booger had been wiped on the underside of the table by its last occupant. A shiver went down my spine as my mind went through a list of possible afflictions, including this year's particularly virulent and deadly flu. I thought about going downstairs to sanitize my finger, but then I thought about the baristas screaming my name like I was their mortal enemy and I didn't want to ask them for the bathroom code.

I wiped the booger off on the wall and tried to salvage my day, but it was too late. My Sunday was ruined. On my way home a man on the subway platform played some kind of flute cover of Can't Help Falling in Love. A black woman on the train screamed, "White people don't get off at this stop!" as I got off at that stop and scurried home, defeated.