Yay Avenue Q lyrics.
So I’m finishing up some writing for NaNo (Hit 5k words tonight, not bad even though I should be at 1667 * 8 = 13336 words by the end of the day today.) when I realize, randomly, that the scene reminds me of one from A Song of Ice and Fire. This then reminds me that I just haven’t read a book, good or bad, in a long time. And now I’ve got a hankering for reading Song of Ice and Fire. Well, there’s a Borders right down the street from me (Okay, maybe a mile, but still, it’s an easy walk) and I’ve wanted to get the books for a while so I can lend them to others, so I figure, what the hay, I have 20 or 30 bucks to burn, I can go get a copy.
I pack up the lappy, put the iPod on, and start making my way down the street. A few blocks from the Panera I was at when this young 20 something guy comes up, asking me if I can hear him.
Uh oh, dude needs some money.
Around the area I live, I’m used to seeing some of the same homeless folks around. I tend to have a rule, if I’m going out to eat, when I have perfectly good food at home to eat, then I’ll give them a few bucks. Sometimes when I’m picking up something prepared at the Giant Eagle across the street, I’ll even grab a sub, a bottle of pop, or maybe a warm tea or coffee as well. If it’s winter I’ll pick up a few of the hand warmer packet things as well. Rather than give someone money, I’ll give them food.
Now, I’ve grown to know the usual homeless suspects around my area, and the ones who take the food graciously are probably hungry and down on their luck. There have been some who scoff at the food I’m offering them, and I tend not to give these folk money the next time they ask. (In my mind, they’ve hit the “only begging for booze and/or drugs” homeless stereotype)
So anyways, this kid is not one of the homeless folks. And he tells me a very plausable story. Car got broken into, wallet stolen, dude found his cell phone that was in his car on the ground outside the car, screen was all smashed to hell. He’s gotta get back up north to Du Bois, PA, and has enough gas for maybe a quarter of the trip. Du Bois, according Google Maps, is a 2 hour drive from Pittsburgh.
So I’m thinking, sure, I’ll give you a few bucks dude. He asks for 20 (Which is a more reasonable exception of the amount needed to get the required fuel for the trip). You know, about the price of a book I was on my way to buy. At this points, it’s a no brainer. Walk into the Giant Eagle, take out a 20, and give it to him.
The whole time, he’s amazed that someone would have stopped to listen to him. I tell him about the area, that while it’s not to bad of a place that there are a bunch of homeless people that most just walk on by. He’s also saying he hates how he sounds, and just wants to get home, and everything. He even offers to wire me double what I gave him when he gets home.
I tell him my name is Pez. (I was wearing my Pez shirt at the time) and it makes him laugh. “First laugh I’ve had all day, thanks man.”) He keeps trying to stop me to make sure he has my name or some way of contacting me so he can pay me back. I keep ignoring those requests. Either the dude’s story is serious, at which I do want to help him out, or the dude is the best dressed homeless guy who can act, and thus has earned the money. (Seriously, busted up Blackberry screen, carrying around a laptop bookback and has a non-knockoff Steeler jersey on. Clean shaven, no Burgh accent, on the verge of a panic meltdown). I think he was just trying to get my name so I would be sure I’d get my money back, and was so worried about securing that from people that it didn’t bother to cross his mind someone could be nice. Or foolish. Of which I am both.
Anyways, I hand him the money, fresh from the ATM machine, say, “Here you go, man. Good luck, hope you make it home alright.” And then start walking away.
Dude: “Aw, thanks man. Now, let me get your number so I can wire you the money back.” I didn’t look, I had already moved away, it I can totally imagine it was like something out of a sitcom. There was this pause, as what I can only imagine is him ready to write on some deposit slips from the Citizen Bank inside the Giant Eagle. His pen is hovering over the slip, ready to record what ever I say. When I don’t respond, he says, “Pez, what’s your…hey!” I can only image it’s now that he realizes I’m walking away, and he falls into step as we’re walking out of the store.
“Seriously man, I need your info, I gotta pay you back.”
“Don’t worry about it. Hope you get home safely, man.” I start mentally ticking off what books in my collection I’ll be reading tonight instead. I do have some Italo Calvino stories to finish up…
“Really man?”
I don’t say this outloud, because it is my last chance. Sure, this could be a con man, or an elaborate way to get beer money. Of if this guy is telling the truth, he’s offered to pay me back double. It’s an instant way to get money.
But I place myself in his shoes, if his story is true. Dude came down to Pittsburgh, for what reason I don’t even know, and needs to get back home. And can’t. And is freaking out because no one is stopping to give him the time of day. And I’m on my way to go buy a book I’ve already read.
“Yep, just pay it forward if you ever can.” The guy is shocked, and I finally consent to giving him an e-mail address (one of my many disposable ones, but he doesn’t need to know it) so he can let me know he’s home.
Maybe I need to believe this guy’s story for covering up the guilt of being taken for a ride and losing my money. Maybe I’m just a sucker and be played me like a fiddle.
Or maybe I realize we live in a world where shit happens and often times there’s nothing we can do about it. And maybe I need to believe this guy’s story is true because I was able to actually do something about the shittiness. (Shittyness? Spell check doesn’t like either)
I mean, this whole thing started because I left Panera to go buy a book on a whim. If I had left 5 minutes later or earlier, or crossed the street as I was walking, this would have never happened. Some, myself included, would call this God’s hand acting on human life, other call it karma or fate.
I honestly believe the guy, regardless of if he played me or not. And I honestly believe that I helped him out of jam; creating a single pinprick light of hope in this otherwise horrible turn of events. And it feels good, I will be honest. It’s nice to know, or at least believe, that you can increase the happiness level of the world by just a little bit.