Andrew J. Lederer

went to the supermarket to get some more real coke. (a friend couldn't find it, though there was plenty.) took the lids off various "home" made soups they had there, 'cause sometimes the chicken really does smell homemade and it's like being transported to a holiday dinner with my family (but without the arguments). then i saw they had little sampling cups, so i thought i'd taste the chicken and maybe make my trip to homemade soup land more dimensional.

i ladled a serving into my cup, ruing the loss of a carrot chunk that fell back into the pot, and was about to taste the stuff when i realized that, in my excitement, i'd forgotten to enjoy the scent.

and since once i tasted the soup, i wouldn't be able to smell it as purely and perfectly, i leaned over the tureen to get a pre-taste whiff.

just then, i saw a single, small drop of saliva fall from my mouth into the soup.

i closed the lid, drank my cup, and thought i'd move on; people must do that stuff all the time -- or worse.

you gotta assume stuff like this might have happened.

i'm not sick, right? nothing will happen to people if they eat it.

yeah. that's right.

i went to get the soda but -- damn -- i'd forgotten my dagostinos card, so i couldn't get the discount they were offering. i thought maybe i should go back to my friend's place, get the card and save the cash.

. . . but i couldn't do it.

i had to tell the store what i'd done.

i couldn't waste time going upstairs while my saliva kicked off an epidemic that would make the victims of the tainted pet food scandal look tame.

and if i was gonna tell the cashier i'd spit in the soup, i had to buy something first, so i'd seem like a customer and not just some guy who came in to drool in the food.

so, i spent an extra buck and a quarter.

and then i didn't tell the cashier what i'd done because, frankly, i looked at her and wasn't sure she could process the information and turn it into action.

fortunately, i'd now clearly purchased something and wasn't just a soup-drooler, so i went looking for a manager, but with no manager in sight, i had to settle for telling the guy at the deli counter.

he took it well (after all, i was clearly a customer) and thought (as i did) that it probably happened all the time. meanwhile, i was proud of myself for putting others' safety ahead of my own desire to escape embarrassment.

i sure hope they changed the soup.

but just in case, don't buy soup at the 3rd avenue and 25th street dagostinos until tomorrow, at least.