People...

On this the first day of school...
I was followed by two teenage thugs for a mile and a half; who were obviously looking for an opportunity to jump me. In one hand I carried my day bag, and in the other, a large reusable bag of groceries with nothing more than; Corn Flakes, blue corn chips, salsa, peanut butter, 2 Sparkling Waters, and that Dolce Gabbana sweater I found earlier.

I would cross the street, and they would cross the street. Several times this happened. They yelled ahead three or four times for me "Hey, hey, hey, Sir, do you have a light? I ignored them until the 4th yell. I turned around, shook my head, and walked faster. The faster I walked, the faster they walked. I would cross the street, they would cross.

So, finally I thought "enough of this crap," and I stood and waited for them to catch up. I tightened my grip on my bags. I looked them both in the eye as they whispered to each other and continued onward. Other than the grace of God, I imagine the only thing that saved me was being aware today. I think if they could have gotten the surprise jump on me, I most certainly would have had trouble. Cowards.

You know? You try to be sympathetic. You realize that people have troubled lives and they're from troubled places, but some days it's hard to be sympathetic or empathic.

An update...

The next day after the almost mugging, I decided to take the bus rather than walk. I took the bus to the downtown hub to transfer. I had missed my connection by two minutes, so I sat on a bench a few feet from the stop. Keep in mind that there was no one other than myself there for ten minutes or so...

The bus was a half hour late, and by the time it arrived, a long line had formed. As the bus pulled up, I stood and moved near the head of the line. "Hey you can't cut. That MF was sittin' on that bench, now he gettin' ahead everybody?" I ignored the voice at first not realizing it was about me. The voice got louder and others, indignant joined in. The bus doors opened and people pushed with their bodies. "What the fuck is this, 3rd grade" I thought?

The angry jerk boarded a few people after me. As he passed my seat (middle of the bus) he roared again. I politely explained that I wasn't actually getting ahead of anyone. This just added fuel to his fire. He now promised to fcuk me up...  I ignored him, and he continued his very loud mindless rant for another mile and a half until he got off. 

Friday, I opted to walk and I did do in peace, the universe realizing that I had had quite enough for one week.

Ode To Trendy Socks

ODE TO TRENDY SOCKS

I do not like funny socks,
Les I am.
They are not edgy or cool,
Don't give a damn.

I will not wear in church.
I will not wear them in a lurch.

Pinks and purple dots you see
Are way to juvenile for me.

Comfy black socks are all I need.
Stay off of my lawn!

Mr. Skinny Pants

After one of those days where anything that could go wrong did, I headed to the house. It was terrifically humid and blazingly sunny, with an odd breeze. I walked at my usual steady clip while thinking of nothing in particular. I was in my own little world.

About half way through my little journey, the weirdest thing happened. I have sad many times that the stranger the occurrence, the more the universe is inclined to make me a witness.

To my left were large older city clapboard houses. Most of them have lost almost all of their charm from a hundred years ago. Staring straight ahead, I heard a heavy door swing open, and what sounded like a child's heavy landings on steps. I didn't turn. "Hey there, Mr. Skinny Pants," a child's voice demanded. I still walked swiftly without turning around. I heard it again, this time while running behind me. I looked across the street and about for this skinny pants fellow. No one filling that description... I looked over my shoulder, and there was a girl of roughly six or seven years. She stopped in her tracks and pointed up at me, with a half smile and cutest pigtails secured with pink barrettes. "You, I mean you! Where you goin', Mr. Skinny Pants, where you goin'?"

I didn't know what to say. Mr. Skinny Pants? I stared at her for a couple seconds. She was still pointing with her right hand on her hip. "Well, Mr. Skinny Pants? No answer, huh"? I must have looked frightened, because I was a little. I turned and hurried across the busy intersection. I didn't look back.

Respect the Hostas

Picture this... Syracuse. It is 2:30 in the morning and I am startled by the most ungodly of wretching noises. They were so loud and ghastly that under different circumstances I might have thought I was in a theater experiencing Hollywood Special fx. No. It wasn't that.

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Even though I just plagiarized that line, it is what actually happened. I looked out my window into the darkness, illuminated only by a silver Honda Accord.

This house is situated atop a great hill. A block below two city streets which climb the hill at an angle, resulting in but two houses at the top. There are no houses directly across the street. This is of interest in that there should be no reason for a strangers car to be parked outside at this hour. -Weird car and the horrible wretching continued.

I grabbed by robe and headed to the living room. There I pushed back the curtains, which startled a drunken 275 mound of blubber, vaguely formed as a man. He was now hacking and dry heaving. His drunken brain hadn't notified his stomach that he had nothing left to give. *Note: he is hovered roughly 35 feet from where he parked out front, and he is disrespecting Hostas, that are used to much pampering. This plant bed is right under the livingroom window.

I raced for the front door, but by the time I shut the alarm off and unlocked the thing, he was both lumbering and hunched over moving as quickly as he could to his vehicle. He really looked like a bear in a white dress shirt. He sped way before I could defend the Hostas' variegated honor.

Who does that, drives up to the top of a hill in the night; parks in front of a random house, walks past the street drain next to their car, and marches thirty-five to a planting bed to puke their guts out on lovely green things?

I crawled back into bed, then was unable to fall back to sleep for another three hours.

I am fortunate in that I already know the universe loves me, or I would wonder. 

Market watch...

So, I select five small on the vine tomatoes at a local Tops market. I take them to the only digital scale which does not work. The produce dude and the manager, plug and unplug the thing, which has no on/off switch... Nothing.

I look around for those hanging produce scales. "They took them out," produce dude tells me.

I put them in my basket. At the counter, the young lady rings them up. The price is $6.90, for five small tomatoes. Dah fuk? I tell the young woman that I don't want them, and apologize like those memes suggest Canadians do. She acts like I asked for her last kidney. I explain about the lack of weighing devices.

She then placed a gallon of skim in a bag that was completely split, end to end. Because I was sent from the future to screw up her day, I asked that she re-bag the milk. She handed me a bag to complete the task myself. I couldn't get the bag open. She finally handed me an opened bag, as she and the cashier from the next lane smiled at each other. I guess I am funny without trying.

In addition, they over-charged me for the bread that I accidentally left on the counter in my attempt to get out of their as quickly as possible. 

I know they aren't Wegmans, but they could and should at least try.

Go vote

Today is the Democrat Congressional Primary. As I was entering my local polling place, a robust black elderly man who lives several blocks from me was leaving. He smiled broadly and greeted me as he often does.

I saw him again standing in his drive, on my way home. He told me that he was glad to see me voting. "Anything to keep that Trump out of there. He'll send us all back where we came from, and I ain't about to live in Florida again" he added.

We laughed and laughed.

What is wrong with us?

#TrueStory

911 Operator: 911, how may I direct your call?

Me: Yes, I was just walking up Adams St. and at the corner of Adams and Irving at the hospital parking garage, Adams Street side is a man lying next to the building. He looks to perhaps be homeless, isn't wearing shoes, and there appears to be a large quantity of blood near his mouth...

911 Operator: What color is he?

Me: Black, maybe.

911 Operator: What was he wearing?

Me: I am not sure.

911 Operator: *Inaudible

Me: I didn't understand you.

911 Operator: Was he breathing?

Me: He appeared to move slightly

911 Operator: Okay we'll have someone check on it.

Me: Thank you.

*There was a garage employee walking in front of me who ignored the man, and sat at the garage exit forty feet from the man.
*There are three hospitals and the university in this immediate area; all of whom have mobile security. In addition, it was lunch time and I imagine many others must have walked or driven by.

What is wrong with us?

Clumsy

Today's episode of:
"Lifestyles of the Clumsy."

I stopped in the drugstore for an Arizona iced tea. They were BOGO. I set them on the counter, and one can escaped by seemingly jumping  to the floor. The college girl behind me kindly reached down to pick it up, the can slightly exploded spraying her in her face. "It's spraying," she muttered in a mousy voice.

I probably should have been more embarrassed than I was.

Wet Dream

Last night I woke up screaming. All that I can recall is, in my nightmare I was being chased, once caught, I screamed for dear life and peed myself.

As I awoke from my nightmare, I realized I was actually peeing. I jumped out of bed with the top sheet and blankets tangled about my feet. I fell awkwardly forward crashing my right shoulder into the wall.

I just stayed there for several minutes waiting for death. It did not come so, I showered, changed and removed, and replaced the bedding.

I then sat down on the left side of the bed. As I lifted my lower body to get under the covers, the blanket snagged a full mug of tea that I had placed on the nightstand into bed with me. Have you ever been too tired and frustrated to even cry? This wasn't my moment. The wet basket of mail on the floor is what sent me over the edge.

I have been in a bad mood all day.

"Religious" Differences

A black woman in her mid-50's smiled at an elderly black woman seated with a walker before her. The older woman, I would judge to be in her very late seventies or early eighties. The young woman stated that the older (dressed in a matching faux zebra hat and scarf) looked very familiar.

They had never met, but both had lived in this city more than forty years, and were originally from Florida. They eagerly and politely shared tales of home and what brought them to Syracuse. The refined elderly woman had moved to be closer to family and continued her career as a Social Worker. The younger woman, whose hair was tied loosely in an old scarf, shared "We came because my momma was on the run from her husband. Other than that I don't know how we ended up in this cold?"

A rough looking black dude also sat in the bus' front section drinking in their conversation. At this point he was invisible to the chatty women.

As they enjoyed themselves, there conversation turned to religion. Both women had apparently visited several churches before finding their current church home. They traded names of ministers and parishioners creating greater familiarity. They were making friends until.

The rough looking dude rudely injected himself into the conversation. He yelled at the older woman, demanding that she was a hypocrite! Her pastor he further demanded was a "Practicing Homosexuals." Aghast, yet still polite, the elderly woman told him her was "mistaken or confused." The man became louder. He described the pastor's meticulous style down to a particular Kangoo cap he often sports. "A damn practicing homosexual, practicing, and that makes you and all the rest down there hypocrites for following..." At this point the younger woman tried to reason with the man, appeal to any sense of breeding that might be there, and pointed out that he was being disrespectful to the elderly woman. He got louder, shouting "practicing homosexual." The elderly woman still polite calmly to the man that she knew nothing of the claim "I attend church to praise God and ask for forgiveness and strength." She continued by asking if he attended church anywhere. "No," he yelled "I don't attend no man's church. Everyone of dem is filled with, you guessed it "practicing homosexual." He then rattled off the names of several city churches. The elderly woman stared and the other woman turned around and looked pleadingly at me.

I shrugged my shoulders as if to say "lady, I got nothin'." "Dude, STFU" would have only made things worse. The younger changed the subject to the weather, which the elderly woman latched onto, offering her prediction for the rest of the month. The man continued his rant for three blocks until his stop even though he was being ignored. 

After he got off the bus, the ladies continued chatting, never acknowledging the man's comments. They are better people than myself. This was four hours ago, and I still believe he was a nutjob jerk

Empty

Late this afternoon I decided to take advantage of the glorious sunshine and go for a walk. There is a creek and stream nearby and as I approached it, I noticed a man on his knees engaged in what appeared to be rinsing returnable bottles and cans in the water. Some stores won't take them dirty or the bar code readers fail if obstructed.

He seemed unaware of the world around him as he worked. I watched intently as I got closer. He was about 5'11", slim build and fit.

Without thinking I reached into my pocket and took out what I had. I walked over to the guy, smiled and handed him the money. He was grateful and said "God bless you. I'm just trying to get something to eat, man." His eyes were clear but tired and, I would guess his age at late forties. I smiled again and continued on my way without looking back. I didn't want to embarrass either of us.

There is a lot right in this country yet, something is very wrong when people collect cans for their supper void of other options. Some might say "at least he wasn't asking for a handout." They would of course be missing the point.

Grocery Madness

When I state that I fear for this nation in the hands of the young, I mean it.

On the way home tonight, I stopped at a grocery store. I needed milk and bananas but, I noticed that there was a sale on pasta sauce; five large jars for only $5.00. A great buy so, I added the jars to my cart and headed to checkout.

Of course, it was my luck today to get new girl who already hates her job, rather than either of the two fun loving high school dudes who love reminding me that I am old by raising their voices a couple octaves to call me "Sir".

Yeah, this one was sour an stupid... I had to walk three blocks up that great hill to the house. I therefore asked that she place a paper bag inside the plastic one, to prevent an accident involving glass and tomato sauce on a neighbor's sidewalk.

Here's the hard part: For the life of this poor cashier girl, she could not understand what I mean by "place a paper bag inside the plastic one." She began by handing me the paper bag, to which I repeated my request. Then she tried simply leaning the bag to one side inside the plastic bag. No, no. "Yeah, open the bag and then put it in" I offered while gesturing wildly.  She now looked confused and angry. She placed the opened paper bag the opposite direction as the plastic, creating a cross if you were looking over the top of the mess. "It won't fit" she offered in frustration. I looked to the two goobers behind me in line. "Yeah, it is just you" their glares suggested. The store security dude winked to let me know he felt my pain. The cashier out of frustration handed be both bags. "Do it yourself, asshole" her eyes offered. So, I did.

I made my way to the house. It was now after seven and I had only crackers for lunch more than six hours earlier. After emptying the bag, I looked at the receipt only to discover she had over-changed me roughly four bucks. She had charged me the regular price and not the sale price for the jars of pasta sauce.

Out of friggin principle I returned to the store for my dang four bucks! I went to the same cashier, waited in line and she told me that she couldn't help me; I had to go to the service desk. There, I waited in line for twenty minutes. The service desk matron was pleasant although, I had to do the math for her.

It is now 8:36p.m., I am in bed and will not get out of here until tomorrow.

Stay in school kids.  

You never know...

A full reusable Aldi's grocery bag sat unattended next to a pillar at the downtown bus hub.

A bus driver was the first to notice and actually question aloud why it sat there. None of the passengers nearby knew anything of the bag's ownership. The driver cautiously peered over the top of the bag. He couldn't figure it out. He went to seek a supervisor; two walked over to investigate, as I backed away.

The woman supervisor turned up the corners of her mouth, as if to say "beats me." The burly male supervisor gave his look see and then... Wait for it... He kicked the bag with his left boot. At this point the woman supervisor quickly went inside the hub building. She quickly returned with a 100lb very effeminate man full of apologies, who gallantly announced that the bag was his and contained a sewing machine. See?

Everyone seemed to exhale at the same time. I, however was thinking that the bus company might need a "Strange Parcel Seminar."

Evil Receipt

Today's Weirdness:

At the supermarket, the round, pleasant cashier rang up my; Hummas, Naan, Diet Iced Tea, and White Chocolate Macadamia Nut Cookie. The total came to $6.66 (666), and the cashier freaked. "Whooooa!" she said as she took a half step back from the register. She shook her head in disbelief and looked at me. It took me a couple seconds to figure out what was going on. I smiled the same smile I do when I am not sure if I am being hit upon, or sized up as someone's next murder victim. 

The cashier insisted I make another purchase to alter the total. "Would you like to buy a bag?" "Sure" (I had already planned to.)

"666? I should play that number tonight?" I gave her my "enough out of you" half smile. She looked offended but, I bid her a great afternoon anyway. 

Do you think I'm sexy?

*To set the scene: Your hero has been killing a Saturday about the mall. He has only come to look, and now he is tired. He sits on a bench for fifteen seconds, when two male humans in transition? enter stage left.

They are wearing lots of makeup. There is room on the bench for a dozen yet, they sit extremely close (almost touching) to me.

The one closest to me has his/her rabbit fur jacket back to me.

The following conversation ensues:

1st trans. : Aw, he mad handsome...

2nd trans.: You don't want that!

1st trans.: You don't think he cute? I think he's really hot.

2nd trans.: (Tilts head and looks past 1st trans. at me)
Honey that bitch be mad old... What you want, a sugar daddy? (cackles a studio audience laugh)

1st trans.: Maybe, I don't know.

*Your hero casually stands as if it never happened, and quickly ducked into Brooks Brothers, a universal safe space.