Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Brother can you spare a dime - or like 5 bucks?

I often write about the hoboes. Why? Well, because I have to interact with them every day (when interacting is often merely ignoring). This morning I pulled into my lot ready to endeavor on my longass walk into the office. What do I spy? I spy something smelly, dirty and wearing a backpack. That's right - a hobo. I thought, "Whither thy bindle hobo?" I'd never seen him before so I named him SirEdmondHillaryHobo due to the possible mountain climbing gear strapped to his back. SirEd parked himself maybe six feet from my car. And, we know what happened next. Due to his close proximity, the smell of liquor on his breath, the wild look in his eyes and the fact I wanted to avoid contracting rabies from a hobo, I gave him a dollar. You scoff? Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers . . . He ALMOST protested, but thought better and went on his merry way.

Walking back to my lot from work, I was again accosted. As I was enjoying a magazine, I was approached by a scalper. Ok. "No thanks, I don't need tickets." I keep walking and he walks alongside me. Then he says, "You know, you're doing something most people aren't able to, reading and walking at the same time. I can't do that." Tickle me pink. He continued, "Listen my man, can you do me one small favor. Give me a dollar so I can go over and get a nice tall bottle of water. It's so hot out here." Ok, there are a number of problems here: 1. You see the sweat stain through my pants? I know it's hot. 2. MY man was wearing what looked like a brand new Kurt Warner jersey, fancy pants, and was carrying a cigar. 3. Exsqueeze me, wasn't I here a minute ago when he tried to sell me Indians' tickets?

WTF? I mean, this guy clearly had money. Was I supposed to be giving him a buck because he complimented my ability to read walk? Well, the guy down the street dishes out the sweet verbal treats a quarter per. What extra are you bringing to the table?

I didn't matter. I had reached my maximum panhandler donation limit, so I politely declined his offer to reallocate my funds saying, "Sorry. I don't have anything to give you. Gotta sell those tickets!" And he says, "But I don't have the tickets I work with another guy and the tickets aren't here yet." Ok, so not only were you asking me for money that you didn't really need, but you were also selling me tickets that you didn't have?

I walked away, head shaking. You, Kurt Warner, are a moron.


Blogger NewYorkMoments said...

Tell the truth, you gave that guy a dollar so he wouldn't pee on your car.....

4:30 PM

Anonymous solyluna said...

It baffles me that the guy thought he could sell you non-existent tickets...Who does he think he is?

Oh that's right...Kurt Warner.

8:36 AM

Blogger Joe said...

Oh, that was a sweat stain on your pants? I was getting a little worried for a minute there.

2:26 PM


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