an epilogue

{The story didn't end with the teenage boy assuaging my concerns about the
leftover lunch in the parking lot.}

The kind boy told me that he worked nearby and that I could use the bathroom at his job. I was extremely grateful and started following him down the street. I started to turn into an arcade, thinking that he was employed there. The teenage boy, probably thinking that I was anticipating another wave of nausea and needed a bathroom ASAP, said that he worked somwhere else. He thought that the arcade probably had a bathroom too and then wished me well.

Inside the door of the arcade was a brusque man who asked for my ID.

{Yes, readers, I was being carded to use a bathroom so I could wipe the vomit from my nose.}

I tried to explain my situation, that I had absolutely zero intentions of staying--I really just needed to clean myself up before boarding the train. Yet, he insisted on seeing my ID. After clumsily groping in my bag to find my wallet while trying to best keep my nose and mouth covered, I showed him my driver's license. As I made my way back to the black-lit, seedy bathroom, the employee instructed me to "not make a mess."

Another low moment.