Rage at the farmers' market!

And in the dog run! I was happily shopping at the Tompkins Square Park greenmarket this morning when Mr. Banquet called from the dog run in the opposite corner of the park. "Could you come over here? The dog took this woman's tennis ball AND SHE'S CALLED THE POLICE." And so began an internal struggle: could I avoid laughing, which would surely enrage the lunatic more? And could I avoid pelting her with my recently-acquired heirloom tomatoes, which are way too expensive to use as weapons? The police arrived at the dog run just a few moments after I did. They didn't seem to understand the risks involved in prying such a thrilling prize from my little peanut's chompy jaws, but they duly noted our offers to buy the petulant lunatic a new tennis ball, which she repeatedly refused. With no other resolution in sight, we agreed to go our separate ways and have a nice day. I returned to the market to finish my shopping and the Ronnybrook Dairy lady told me a rotten bitch of a story that puts mine in perspective: at 6 am this morning, the people from Norwich Meadows Farm were unloading their beautiful, beautiful tomatoes from their truck when a drunken asshole from NJ demanded that they move the flats of tomatoes so he could get his assholemobile out his parking spot without having to use his feeble mind or feeble eyes. When they didn't do this fast enough to please him, he backed his car up, knocked over the tomatoes, and took off. Ronnybrook Dairy lady estimates that he destroyed ABOUT $7,000 WORTH OF TOMATOES. For fuck's sake! I wish every day was like Sunday.