Never Trust a Times Square Chicken Parmigiana

We took the subway to Soho and went window shopping. I bought a green juice and that gave me a boost of energy. We met a nice photographer and he talked about the importance of putting yourself out there with your work and passion, then he took our photo and we gave him $10 for the print. I started to feel unwell and knew I needed to go to the toilet so I told Bernard I’d see him in Starbucks. I hastily walked into Starbucks and saw that there was a line for the toilet. Impatiently, I waited in line and when it was finally my turn to go in I rushed inside. I started to feel dizzy, my vision was blurred, my ears were ringing, I couldn’t hear a thing. I stumbled my way outside the toilet towards a seat and saw a lady staring at me. She asked if I was alright and before I could even say anything, I collapsed.
“Oh my god, are you okay? Did you take anything? Are you here with anyone?”
I didn’t have the energy to speak but I saw Bernard obliviously waiting in the toilet line and I feebly pointed towards him whispering, “My brother.”
The lady rushed towards Bernard and told him what was happening. He asked the Starbucks barista for some water.
“Do you want ice with that?”
“No, I don’t want ice, my sister has collapsed just get me some water!”
Another lady had given me a sugar pill and a banana to eat and I slowly gained some strength. When I fully recovered, we thanked the lady who’d saved me and called an Uber to go back to our hotel.

Lesson from this experience: don’t eat the questionable Times Square chicken parmigiana.

To be continued . . .