{"id":86725,"date":"2015-06-16T16:19:44","date_gmt":"2015-06-16T20:19:44","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=86725"},"modified":"2015-06-16T16:19:44","modified_gmt":"2015-06-16T20:19:44","slug":"daily-news","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2015\/06\/16\/daily-news\/","title":{"rendered":"Daily News"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/a>

Photo: Joe and Jeanette Archie<\/p><\/div>\n

One morning, I stopped by a Greenwich Village kiosk to buy a newspaper for my commute. When I would\u2019ve walked away, the vendor\u2019s voice stopped me, and I looked up to meet merry, twinkling eyes. \u201cYou,\u201d he said roguishly, \u201care the most beautiful customer I have had all day!\u201d<\/p>\n

This seemed unlikely. True, the day was young. But I was looking particularly awful: the night before I\u2019d attempted an \u201cextraction\u201d on a pore that, in a magnifying mirror, I had deemed clogged, and now it looked like I was suffering from either a bad allergic reaction or from some kind of strange bug bite. I hadn\u2019t bothered with makeup. I was also wearing a cavernous sweater of my boyfriend\u2019s. But what did I know? Maybe this guy\u2019s other customers were a real bunch of dogs.<\/p>\n

\u201cUh, thanks,\u201d I said, not wanting to be ungracious in the face of such gallantry. <\/p>\n

\u201cWhere are you from?\u201d he asked me.<\/p>\n

I figured he was asking because sometimes my arcane mode of speech and slight lisp lead people to think I\u2019m from somewhere else\u2014maybe some remote Canadian province or something. I was about to tell him I was from here in New York, but he interrupted:<\/p>\n

\u201c \u2026 Paradise?\u201d<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t really know how to answer. I smiled and started to walk away. \u201cDo you promise to always<\/em> buy your papers from me?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure!\u201d I said. I guess I was feeling reckless.<\/p>\n

\u00a0*<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, yeah, that guy\u2019s really charming,\u201d my boyfriend said when I informed him of the exchange. \u201cHe\u2019s even kind of flirtatious with me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I figured that,\u201d I said. \u201cI mean, obviously it wasn\u2019t personal. He has to make his life fun. And bring sunshine to others, too, I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u00a0*<\/p>\n

The next time life took me past this particular news vendor, I was looking my best. I was wearing a dress and heels, I was coiffed and maquillaged, I was even carrying a small briefcase\u2014which gave me a highly legitimate air.<\/p>\n

He was chatting to another woman as I approached, giving her the old magoo, no doubt. (An expression I\u2019ve never heard outside of Christmas in Connecticut<\/em>, but have always wanted to use.) His face registered nothing when he saw me. I handed over my money with great efficiency. But when I opened my hand for the change, he held it fast.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere are you from?\u201d he asked slyly.<\/p>\n

\u201cParadise,\u201d I snapped, and withdrew my hand.<\/p>\n

At once, I regretted it. He looked crushed. I was put in mind of that scene from Salinger\u2019s \u201cFor Esm\u00e9\u201d where the narrator attempts to banter with the little boy.<\/p>\n

\n

I felt Charles pinching me, hard, on my arm. I turned to him, wincing slightly. He was standing right next to me. \u201cWhat did one wall say to the other wall?\u201d he asked, not unfamiliarly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou asked him that,\u201d Esm\u00e9 said. \u201cNow, stop it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ignoring his sister, and stepping up on one of my feet, Charles repeated the key question. I noticed that his necktie knot wasn\u2019t adjusted properly. I slid it up into place, then, looking him straight in the eye, suggested, \u201cMeetcha at the corner?\u201d<\/p>\n

The instant I\u2019d said it, I wished I hadn\u2019t. Charles\u2019 mouth fell open. I felt as if I\u2019d struck it open. He stepped down off my foot and, with white-hot dignity, walked over to his own table, without looking back.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s furious,\u201d Esm\u00e9 said. \u201cHe has a violent temper. My mother had a propensity to spoil him. My father was the only one who didn\u2019t spoil him.\u201d<\/p>\n

I kept looking over at Charles, who had sat down and started to drink his tea, using both hands on the cup. I hoped he\u2019d turn around, but he didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

\u201cI mean \u2026 \u201d I said hastily. \u201cI mean, I\u2019m so happy talking to you, that it\u2019s \u2026 kind of like paradise.\u201d It was lame, but his features relaxed. \u201cWill you promise not to buy your newspaper anywhere else?\u201d he said, ardent and insinuating beyond all need. What energy he must expend in a day! What commitment!<\/p>\n

\u201cI do,\u201d I said, meeting his eyes meaningfully.<\/p>\n

Sadie Stein is contributing editor of <\/em>The Paris Review, and the <\/em>Daily\u2019s correspondent.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

One morning, I stopped by a Greenwich Village kiosk to buy a newspaper for my commute. When I would\u2019ve walked away, the vendor\u2019s voice stopped me, and I looked up to meet merry, twinkling eyes. \u201cYou,\u201d he said roguishly, \u201care the most beautiful customer I have had all day!\u201d This seemed unlikely. True, the day […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":178,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[13115],"tags":[12511,158,16335,18460,18459,910,18457,18458],"class_list":["post-86725","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-our-daily-correspondent","tag-city-life","tag-encounters","tag-flirting","tag-for-esme","tag-gallantry","tag-j-d-salinger","tag-newsstands","tag-vendors"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nAt the Newsstand, Chivalry Is Most Surely Not Dead<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Sadie Stein on her frequent encounters with the city\u2019s most gallant newsvendor.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2015\/06\/16\/daily-news\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Daily News by Sadie Stein\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"June 16, 2015 \u2013 One morning, I stopped by a Greenwich Village kiosk to buy a newspaper for my commute. 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