Strange but true stories...

The day after my vodka experiment, someone rings & vibrates down my cell phone. And I mean, this person was determined to hear my voice and make sure I was okay. Finally, I picked it up, and it turns out to be the GreenPoint old-timer. She needs help in a remedial computer course she's taking for some teaching program she's in. In any event, I thought the idea of me tutoring her would be absurd, because we're miles away from one another; that, and the fact that she uses computers everytime she works for her to know something about them. She insists that I help her. After minutes of her whining, I agreed to meet her the following Monday, realizing that I would have to once again make up a Biology lab the following Thursday.
So there I was Monday afternoon, a little bit after 4PM, with a scar on my face (more on that later) waiting for Godot, basically. And this cool black brother comes out of his just-recently-parked BMW 745 Li. He passes a female cop, with her ticket book in hand, ready to issue tickets. Now, being that it's after 4PM, there is no standing on the bank's side of the street. If you see a ticketbook-wielding cop pass you by, then chances are you'd better stick around to make sure you steer clear of the frenzy, right? Well, not this black brother. I stood there figuring, hey, he must be rich. He could afford $60, right?? I so much wanted to blissfully ignore everything, and keep iPodding away. But by the time the cop writes her first ticket, I guessed that somebody had to warn him.
I headed to the ATM line and warned him, in which he finally took his shades off to realize the reality of the situation. Your ass is about to get fined. DO SOMETHING!!! He asked me to hold his spot, in which I obliged for about 15 minutes before I realized that he was still parking his car. So I went back to iPodding at the employee entrance, and waited for the old-timer. The brother appears again, to thank me for giving him the head's up; and of all the things to ask a man who just saved you $60, he asked me how I got the scar on my face. The amazement of people: they are alert to unnecessary phenomena, yet overlook the obvious. Long story, I replied. After trying to get me hooked up with his job, some entrepreneur stuff, he took his cash from the box and left, thanking me some more.

What irony: us iPodders are supposed to be more ignorant of our surroundings, yet we are more aware than most other people. Probably because we have $250 - $500 investments we don't want to lose.

Oh yeah, whatever came of the old-timer? She calls me twenty minutes after the incident (30 minutes before my Monday lab starts) and tells me that she's short at her register, and therefore, won't be able to make the meet. Flabbergasted, all I could do was laugh, while trying to kick myself in the ass. What more could I expect from that damn old-timer? Internal stress + external pressure = difference @ the drawer. And this test she had to pass wasn't helping matters, either. And all that waiting for nothing; man I really wanted to kill her.
But, one good thing did come out of this: Some dude saved $60.


A funny thing happened on the way to this post. As I iPodded up Lexington Avenue to Hunter College, this old lady was trying to cross the street. Now I figured, what's five minutes, eh? I raced up to rendevous with her towards her right ('cause the incoming traffic would be coming from her right), and attempted to help her cross the street. All I heard her say was "go ahead; it's alright," while looking totally lost at the middle of the intersection. Hold on ma'am, where are you going? "It's okay. Keep going."
I didn't want to stay there much longer, so everyone nearby would get the impression I was trying to rob her. So I left her alone and went about my business. I looked back, at lady finally went back to the side of the street she started from, and found her way back to wherever it was she had to go. Now, maybe she had too much East-Side-pride to ask or allow help; maybe she didn't trust anyone that looked as dark as the night skyline; maybe it was just me. Normally, I would let it slide; but here it is I'm iPodding, and minding my own business, while still trying to look like I haven't been totally zombified, only to realize that there's nothing to notice. Nothing's changed; if it hasn't gotten any worse. So to hell with the zombified theory; iPodding brings us into a safe haven. We're all together, iPodding as one, with no musical taste or ethnical variance to separate us. How did I get safe haven, then? Think about it, why would an iPodder need to steal someone else's iPod...

More later...