Haskonomicon

So way back in February, around the last time I posted anything here, i had a funeral, a wedding, and a trip up to Syracuse all within a 2 week span. After that cluster of a few weeks, the release at work heated up. For many people, I’ve been MIA. And I’ve felt it.

But the software’s been handed off. Friday was the ‘hey, we just handed off the CDs time to head out at 3 for a well earned happy hour’ day. This has been the first weekend where I haven’t checked my work e-mail or done any working from home on a Saturday or Sunday since February.

I’m free to start working on my podcasts again. Or writing again. Or finishing my CoH/FMA machinima. Or writing something new for the MA in CoH. Or working on something for a 4th edition campaign.

And yet, I’m having a hard time starting any of them up. Maybe I just need some time to catch my breath before it will all come back, I don’t know. But I sat down today and could not form any words, a blank page mocking me more than usual. I was hoping to dredge up some funny slice of life story that occurred during the past few months to share with you all, and nothing.

I’ve even come back to the Panera where the guy told me you gotta cool the oceans, in hope of having another random encounter. Nothing.

Oh well, I’ve posted a blog for the first time in a while. Maybe this will kick start me out of this rut. And yes, I mixed metaphors there, sue me, I’m rusty.

So, as a reward of getting this far, I present 2 videos of me singing songs in Rock Band.

Pez sings You Oughta Know, by Alanis Morsette

Pez sings Chop Suey, by System of a Down

So there’s been a lot of things I’ve want to blog about. All sorts of neat, slice of life, This American Life-esque or Wil Wheaton-esque type looks at little things that just fascinated me. Watching a woman on the bus solve Rubic’s Cube, the total look of serene concenration on her face as she twisted the multichromatic cube, iPods earbuds snuggly in place playing what I imagined was death metal. Jogging in the 60 degree rain earlier in the week, my Pepsi-gut a reminder of my soon to be 30th birthday in December mixed with the childish joy of running in the rain.

But all my thoughts this week keep coming back to a very good friend of mine, whose mother passed away on Sunday; the victim of cancer that of the “Dear Lord, just take her now so she stops suffering” variety and severity. This friend (Keeping them anonymous to stay in the safer spectrum of caution) had been at their mother’s side for the past three weeks, doing everything in their power to keep their mother comfortable, fighting with Hospice over medication limits, rotating in shifts with their other family members so someone could keep an eye on their mom.

When they had relocated almost a month ago to be at their mom’s bedside, they started a blog to keep the curious swarm of people interested in both their well being and that of their mother. All the updates were simple statements that said all that was needed about what was happening. I could easily imagine writing any of those entries in a half-zombie like state I seemed to inhabit through most of college; barely awake, a few wisps of coherency. I can’t imagine doing so while watching a family member waste away.

But what really amazed me is how much support this one person could garner. Because of the Internet’s reach, people from all over were notified of what was going on, and able to report not only their thoughts back to those at health ground zero but the thoughts of those around them. And we all realized that my friend’s mother had touched a lot of people.

I’ll be going to the funeral. I’ve only ever been to two others, one for my grandmother and one for the father of another close friend. (Scoring 2 for 3 on ‘Friend’s parent has cancer’, for those keeping track at home). I’ll admit I find it odd going to the celebration of someone’s life I’ve only met in passing a few times. Because of my past experiences I’ve always had a distant relationship with death; thought that funerals were more for the reassurance for the living, yadda yadda yadda, thought I could be that guy to tell a joke at a funeral.

But when I’m there, I have the feeling I’m going to be lost in the crowd. I get the impression that this single person could so positively change the life of so many people that the brief glimpses I got to directly see myself are hollow, when compared to all the other primary sources out there. One of these primary sources is my friend, who has proven to be amazingly strong when needed, bending when called for but never breaking at those times of too much pressure, and I know from our long friendship they have already inherited their mother’s ability to not only better the lives of those around them, but have that wave of positive humanity ripple through their immediate circle of acquaintances.

My thoughts and prayers, this past month and especially this past week have been going to my friend and their family. It helps to know that their mom is dancing in heaven right now, when she’s not vacuuming the living room up there. Because she’s totally that type of person, wanting to make it homey and comfy for us when the rest of us finally get there.

So I’m standing out on a porch of a friend’s house in Mifflin, listing to the neighbors yell and shout. The sound seems to echo weirdly on the hills up there, coming from beyond the houses that I can see; coming as if from the other side of the world. Cars are honking, there is cheering and shouting coming from behind me as well, answering the almost arcane liturgy from the hills beyond. And I can’t stop grinning like a mad man.

Sure, I’m wearing a Steeler’s jersey, waving at Terrible Towel like a mad man. But years ago you’d never had pegged me as doing such a thing. I was born and raised outside of Buffalo, New York. I’m used to cheering for teams that get just to the cusp of victory only to throw it all away in a cavalcade of mediocrity. And after a few of the plays in the 4th quarter, I could feel that old Buffaloian sense of despair and loss coming through.

But Big Ben and Holmes pulled through on that last drive. The defense came up with a stop when they needed it most, with less than ten seconds to go. And all around me, in the living room on the top of a hill in Mifflin, in the neighborhood that surrounded said house, and in the city said neighborhood was a part of, true communal joy bleed out. In Black and Gold, of course.

I’m not a native to Pittsburgh, but I’ve chosen to live here for the past three years. My job is great, but I’ve noticed something of the town and its people, something that even now I’ve have trouble putting into words. There is a sense of ownership in every Pittsburgher that I’ve not seen anywhere else, in my times living in Buffalo, Erie, or Cleveland. There is an immense sense of belief in one’s town and the people around it that is almost palpable.

I was given a Terrible Towel at this Super Bowl party I went to, and I treated it as the revered object it is. It was my greengold card into Steeler Nation, and I made sure to put it to good use. As I drove back from Mifflin to Shadeyside, I had one hand hanging out the window, waving it at every intersection, or when ever another Steeler fan would honk and wave their towel. And it’s safe to say the whole way home I was doing so.

As cool as that was, and it was freaking awesome let me tell you, standing on that porch and just listening to random strangers I’ll never meet cheer and shout from who knows how far away is what’s going to stick with me the most. There’s a lot of talk of how united a town Pittsburgh is, and this single moment, to me, is the best way to describe what a great and communal feeling it is.

…so that means I must be meeting interesting people. I may need to add Panera tags to my blog if this continues.

This time I’m at the Panera near my house. I’m trying to get a story edited so I can start recording it as a podcast (Something that needs its own post or five). I’m sitting near the fireplace. This Panera has only three chairs sitting around the fireplace, the leftmost one next to an electrical outlet that never works.

I sit down, boot up, and after browsing a few sites I turn the WiFi off and get to editing the first part of chapter 2. I’m wearing my bright orange Pez teeshirt, and everyone else is huddled in long sleeve shirts and fleeces and dark coats. After about an hour, a couple come to the fireplace area, a friendly looking woman and a type A personality man. He has a bluetooth cell phone headset on, and a “I need to get stuff done and not take guff from anyone” attitude (What ever guff is…), but he’s not coming across as a raging asshole in the process. He moves to plug his laptop in to the outlet next to me when I say it’s not working.

He sighs but not only tells the manager on staff about it (Something I don’t think I’ve ever done) but moves around the resturant looking for an outlet. His wife sits in the chair opposite me, we do the polite smile and nod to a stranger in one’s nearby space thing as she opens a book, and I go back to editing.

About ten minutes later, another woman shows up, and sits down in the chair between us. She is overweight in the kind motherly way, rather than the eats 2 whole pizza pies a night way, wearing a black coat with a yellow squeeze water bottle, and a plastic Subway bag.

I nod to her, as does the woman across from me. I notice, a few seconds after that, that she keeps looking back and forth between myself and the reading woman across from me, as if expecting one of us to say something. I have my headphones on, and the other woman had returned to her book, so I did what most people would have done, ignored the new woman and focused on my work.

Water bottle lady cannot hold back the silence any longer, and says hi to both of us in order. Now, with my headphones on I have the option of ignoring the conversation, which I take. I can hear the other two woman exchange name. Reading lady puts a slip of paper at her location and sets the book down, and the two start to chat.

At this point, I’m feeling a bit guilty. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I thought water bottle lady was a bit crazy, and I didn’t want much of anything to do with her. I listen in to the conversation for a bit, and she doesn’t seem TOO crazy, like a certain person interested in cooling the oceans I once met was. So I pull off my earphones, to make myself approachable to the conversation.

Within 30 seconds, water bottle lady has looked in my direction and asked me what my name is. I of course gave my first name, to be friendly. “I like your shirt.” she said.

This is where I got hooked. Someone had left me an opening to talk about Pez. And I fell right into the trap. I shut my laptop, and with a little prompting and questions from both women, go into a 10 minute discussion about Pez, the history, the name, etc etc.

After a bit, water bottle lady says that I remind her of someone named Shannon Norman. Now, book lady and I are not from around Pittsburgh, so it seems that Mr. Norman is known locally for The It’s Alive Show, a Saturday night B-movie show on one of the local stations. Shannon Norman plays a character called Stuffy The Dead Clown. Whom I supposedly look like.

There’s no real good way to segue out of a conversation where a strangers says you look like someone who plays an undead clown, let me just say…

After a few more minutes of water bottle lady shares some more details of the Pittsburgh Horror Movie scene (Of which I didn’t know existed until now) she said she had to leave “To meet a friend” somewhere. Book lady and I nod to her, then go back to our respective media consumptions.

So here’s the thing. Although a bit weird (Not as weird as crazy ocean cooling guy) the conversation was pretty interesting. And I could’ve ignored the whole thing by pretending to be oblivious to it all. Back in college, I used to enjoy random conversations with strangers; such a situation back then and I would have probably initiated said conversation. But I’ve become more passive around strangers as I’ve aged (That’s saying something) at the same time as I’m opening up and outgoing around those I know. I’m sure that means something, I just don’t know what, to be honest.

I had a pretty great Christmas/New Years/Birthday, including the traditional week long gaming in Syracuse and the return of an old favorite tradition of mine, bare skinned snow angels. There’s plenty I could talk about, talking about such diverse topics as rampaging toddlers, taking down a red dragon with a vorpal axe and bladed shieldof difficulty 6 with a dice pool of 19, how scarily awesome Quelf is as a party game, or my new found love for the treb show and welcoming people to it.

But the story of note starts when I was returning to Pittsburgh from all of this. I drove back home Sunday night, it was an easy drive except for the hellicious amounts of fog that started outside of Erie and lasted all the way through to Grove City, about an hour and a half. I’ve driven in blizzards before, I actually kinda like it, but this fog was something else; probably the most frightening drive I’ve had in some time.

Flash forward to Monday morning at work, when everyone is slowly filtering in, back from a nigh-two weeks off, spent with family and friends. There was a lot of general chit-chat and kibitzing in the office this morning, happy new years, how were your holidays, how’s the family, etc.

I was talking with one person, let us refer to his individual only as B. After receiving a belated birthday present from this individual, we got to talking, and I talked about the crazy fog. B related how there was tons of fog around where they lived as well the previous night. A bit back and forth and I asked, “Have you ever read Stephen King’s ‘The Mist’?”

B’s response was, “Well, no, I highly doubt it was anything like that.”

My rebuttal, “Well, yeah, but you never know.”

This produced the expected “You’re talking silly business now” look on their face, like they did not know if I was merely kidding about the possibility of extra-dimensional bloodthristy creatures that can dwell only in mist existing in our world and just keeping a straight face, or actually serious about concerned on entering fog because of the elder eldritch entities contained deep within.

Now one part of me, the engineer portion, knows it cannot be true. Not only would such creatures be so biologically inefficient to exist, the constant stream of cars coming out of the fog in a normal and orderly manner common to any other time driving at night ensures that even if such fell beings of the mist were possible, at the very least they did not exist in the current bank of fog I was traveling in. Nor would the radio be playing normally, I would rather think in the event of an apocalyptical uprising of fog creatures the Gannon University radio station would not be playing music, but rather would either be silent or using the airwaves for the better communication of survivors and pockets of resistance groups.

So yeah, on that end, I’m totally joking.

But you know what, where’s the harm in thinking it might be true? And I don’t mean in a pretend along with the kids that so and so is real, but believe it to be true like you believe water is wet, soil is dirty, and the Bengal’s home games should be held at the state penitentiary for ease of the local players. First off, all it takes is one opening of a rift to a horrible other world filled with living nightmares who live in an eeriely silent white smoke to make a little thing like entering a fog bank seem like a real and frightening thing. It’s not scientifically possible, you say? Well, 600 years ago, try saying that little tiny living things that you can’t even see are what make you sick, and not an imbalance of the four humors.

Another tack: science is always working under theories, revising them as new technology all for new discoveries. This, of course assumes that the rules are always constant. Who is to say 2000 years ago, the atomic model did not exist, but everything was composed of the four primal elements? Then once humans figured this out, a god figure or series of god figures all decided to change the rules under us, keeping them this way until they figured this system out, and the cycle goes again?

Both cases, and countless more, sound like hooks from works of fiction. They are offspring of a creative mind taking the physical realm around it, working it with the hammer and forge of fantasy. But the world of fact is wholly separate from the world of fiction, we can enjoy the highs and lows of fiction preciously because it is not true. Seriously believing these rogue fictional things can live and breath in our world of cold, hard, logical fact is at best the sign of a fantastical mind and at worst the sign of an immature child who refuses to grow up, isn’t it?

Perhaps. Heck, probably. But I don’t really see that as a bad thing.

For me, letting elements of the fantastic into our world, honestly in my heart believing these things, however minor it is, is not a sign of immaturity. It is an indication of open mindedness, a leaping point for the chance of adventure and discovery that does exist in the logical world around us. Maybe getting off the interstate because the dimensional mist monsters are sticking to the highway sounds absurd. But when you’ve been driving for 5+ hours and it’s late at night, believing there really are things out there that want to go bump in the night makes you a much more alert driver, paying attention to everything a bit more than when the cruise control was going and the radio was playing. Which, I might add, is a safer way to drive through bad weather.

So maybe the mist monsters don’t really exist. But you know what, believing in them makes me a better driver and a more creative person. Believing in them allow me to see the everyday for what it really should be, a grand adventure in our limited time on this planet. Most people seem to behave as if their daily routine were just ordinary, not extra-ordinary. For me, it could be my day is trudging into town for a day sitting at a computer for nine or so hours and attending meetings.

Or, what if some government secret will flash across my screen at any time? Who knows if the key to unlock all the government’s secrets will be generated by pure random accident in the code I’m working on? Heck, what if my entire company is a front organization for some secret NSA project? Guess I’ll have to go in tomorrow, with a smile, to find out, just in case.

(Also, apologies to B if you read this and take offense, none were intended)

Been a while, hasn’t it all 3 of you who read this?

There I was during NaNoWriMo, working on a story, when a different project sort of fell into my lap. The nitty gritty details can be found here at BoardGameGeek, but in short it’s a unique carrying case for a board game called Arkham Horror. The game is based on the Cthulhu Mythos, which traditionally takes place in the mid 1920s. A common theme in the Mythos and the game is that certain books contain terrifying power that could drive the reader insane, but reading the forbidden knowledge within my be the only way to save the world. (To be fair, everything in the Mythos world can drive you insane, books are just the most common.)

So after spending, cumulatively, more money on tools, supplies and materials for this project than the game itself, I’ve hit a good starting point, as shown in that link to BGG.com. But to get to that point I’ve had to spend all my creative energy in working on that. Energy that is usually spent on things like silly blogs or other writing nonsense.

It’s rather nice to have, if not done, that at a comfortable resting point, the Arkham Horror project. I’ve had a working structure to get tasks started and finished at work, but coming home it’s been harder and harder not to fall victim to humming bird disease; a frantic “Ohh, look at this, this looks like fu…oh, look at that that looks like fun, hey this new thing over here just reeks of awesomeness!” I’ve always shrugged that off as the rewards for a hard worked day, the chaotic task lists the spoils of war earned in my ordered 9-5. But having something reach a natural stopping point in for a silly personal task (I can transport the base game in my new set up, 4 expansions to go…) is a real win for me.

Plus it means I can come here and write silly things more often. Or work on the next silly thing on my list…-sigh- never a dull moment…

I got my Akoha Starter Deck on Monday after work. For those of you not in the know about Akoha and too lazy to click the link, Akoha is a social reality game. You get a deck of cards that have different missions, things like “Invite someone to coffee” or “Make someone smile”. Each card has a point value. The idea is to play these on someone else, registering the fact you’ve played a card at the website. The receivee then logs in, verifies they’ve received the gift, then encouraged to play the card on someone else.

The intent is not only a small reward for doing good things for other people (As you play more and more, your ‘karma’ score goes up. There’s a leader board and everything) but the tracking of a card’s history is there to encourage the paying it forward of the gift, creating an ever-widening community of people who do small little good things for one another.

I’d like to think of myself as a generally nice guy, willing to do something extra like this when I can. Generally, I’m a lot better at doing this for random people than I am for people I actually know, and I’m not sure that’s a weakness or a strength. But after I got my deck I started think of who I could ‘hit’ with these. People at work, people on my friends list. There’s one, “Buy drinks for a couple in love” that I’m probably going to save. Every time I go to a resturant I’ll be looking for a couple. I’m going to do the “Excuse me, waitress, that couple over there, could you send me their bill and give them this card” thing.

It seems like such a badass thing to do.

But the over analytical part of me has started to have a couple doubts about Akoha. The first is rather than live in the moment, taking the random opportunities to do a nice thing for someone else, I’m plotting away at how to ’spend’ each card for, lacking a better word, maximum goodness potential. Example: Should I use the “Give someone a gift” card on a co-worker, or “Give someone chocolate”? Would this person be the type of person to give someone a random gift, or is this the type of person to give a specific gift of chocolate? Part of the charm of Akoha that’s attracted me ever since I heard about it is the constant paying it forward portion of it. I want to see these cards bounce from person to person (Kinda like a non-beer pushing version of this commercial, physical proof that one little thing I did for someone is having an ever expanding area of influence in the lives of strangers.

It’s moved the random act of kindness to a pre-mediated act of kindness. Which isn’t a bad thing, just different.

The second issue I have is that Akoha cards, while the result is a hippy vibe of more grooviness in the universe, is that it seems to shift the intent of these acts some what. Now that I’ve some time to think about it, my biggest fear when playing one of these cards is that people will not see the nice thing being done for them, but rather that they are just being used as part of a process wherein I gain points for some stupid online game.

This will never be the intent (I hope) with me, for the most part I like to increase the overall level of nice and good in the universe by a few fraction of percentage points when I do something (The only exception, screwing around with the players in my fantasy football team just to get crazy reactions out of the other team owners.) And I have to admit that people who already do random nice things for others will still do nice things for others, Akoha or no Akoha. What these cards and website do is give some sort of reward for those when there was none other than that special warm and fuzzy feeling, and maybe force some people who wouldn’t be nice to a fellow human to act otherwise, even if all they care about is trying to flip a few bits on a server somewhere in Canada so their pretendy fun time points are more than other peoples.

I guess what I’m babbling on about is that I don’t want to be someone who uses the power of gift giving in a selfish way. I don’t want to give only for the recognition (Though it is nice when you are recoginized) but rather as close to the purest altruistic Platonic ideal of giving that’s possible.

Just last night I was playing City of Heroes, one of those MMO, think World of Warcraft only with superheroes, and I got a very rare drop that I couldn’t use. I could have sold it on the in game auction house for at the very mininum 10,000,000 influence (The ingame currency). But there was someone I was grouped with that very badly needed the drop, it filled the one gap in their armor. As is the tradition when grouped, when you get a rare drop, you announce it to the group. The guy said, “Man, that’d be nice”. Without thinking, in the middle of the fight even, I stopped what I was doing and transferred the item over to him.

But then I kept dropping sly hints to check his inventory, that “You need this more than me”. When he didn’t respond, I realized I was really pissed off. Not angry because of a breach of etiquette, but rather because I wanted him to know that it was ME who give it to him; that I was the glorious person who, having taken pity on the poor unfortunate soul that was him, I looked down upon him and sought to bring him closer to the greatness that was me.

And it shouldn’t have been that way. It should’ve more been him checking his inventory some time after I gave it to him, could be minutes, could be days, and seeing that thing listed there for him. And the real person on the other side of the screen would have cracked a smile, and if he assumed it came from a random drop that should not be a concern of mine. Dude is smiling, the joy spreads.

I’m looking forward to best playing my Akoha cards, hoping to bring as many genuine smiles into the world. Some of you reading this right now might get a silly little something in the mail one day from me because of it. I just hope that I don’t end up doing all these things for all the wrong, selfish reasons.

Also, never underestimate the importance of body language

Also also, behind Maleficent, Ursula has to be the best Disney animated movie villain. And by best I mean creepiest. Seriously, Jafaar has nothing on the her. I think giant sea octopus beats out giant fire breathing snake any day. Scar and Gaston don’t even turn into giant versions of themselves for the final climatic battle, what push overs.

Also also also, best Disney animated villain, TV show or movie, is of course Xanatos from Gargoyles.

Or maybe FemToWriMo. Or dare I say AtToWriMo.

Only nerds are going to get those jokes.

So yeah, every year I fail brillantly at NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month. It’s a yearly ‘exercise’ where one is challenged to write 50,000 words of a novel in a month. It’s really there for people to stop making excuses, put butt into chair, and just write.

I’ve never done well at these, I think last year was my worst showing at 300 words the entire month. I’m up to around 6500 words of my ‘official’ NaNo, a retooling of a story I started and abandoned last year. But I’ve also fired off about 3 long e-mails to old friends, pulled another story out of the graveyard and added 2000 words or so, and posted a few blogs as well. Oh, and done a test recording of a podcast I intend to let loose on the CoH public come the first of the year.

So yeah, probably gonna fail NaNo again, this year, I do have a 5 year streak going after all. But odds are if you add up all the words I’m pounding out across the various fields, things that are actually interesting to me and not artificial like NaNo is, I might call this a win somewhere, somehow.

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.