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?