Guilty Pleasure

I'm constantly avoiding those cheery young people on the street who carry around clipboards, stopping folks to take a minute to "save the children", "save the trees", or "save the gays." 

Sometimes I walk in the street when I see them ahead of me; often I pretend I'm on a cell phone call.

Yesterday, a young woman caught me off-guard on Astor Place. She reached out her hand as if to shake mine and said, "I'd like to talk to you."

I responded, "Not now, sorry."

She followed me, asking, "Why not now?"

Without missing a beat, I said, "Because someone in my family just died."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she sheepishly replied, recoiling her hand and clipboard.

"Thanks for asking," I shot back weakly, continuing on my merry way to nowhere.

Yes, I felt guilty about projecting death onto an unsuspecting family member, but I didn't feel guilty about not saving something that day.

No Good Deed

I was bustling thru Penn Station at rush hour yesterday and came upon a elderly blind woman making her way to the Information Counter.

The guys at the counter saw her coming, but didn't step in to help her get to the counter to get the information she was seeking. So, I put my gentle hand on her shoulder and asked if she needed any assistance. 

She said, "Oh! Thank you! I'm looking for the pizza joint down here."

"It's about 30 feet ahead", I replied, and she was on her way.

I felt good about lending a hand (although I didn't expect her to need directions to a food place in Penn Station of all places).

As I left her, an electric wheelchair came out of nowhere and ran right into my ankle. And then sped away.

I was the victim of a hit-and-wheel.

Soap, meet Mouth

Yesterday, I was walking through Chelsea and became a bit frazzled when I ran into a herd of people on the narrow sidewalk loudly addressing each other with the following phrases:

"Nigga, you trippin'!'"

"That bitch gonna get what's comin' to her."

"Shut up nigga!"

"Shut up, bitch."

"You a dumb fuck, nigga."

 ... and so on. Caught in the melee, I was startled by the words I was hearing. Because, the group of people I was in the middle of, was a group of Junior High School students on their way to Starbucks.

When I was in Junior High School, I didn't drink coffee. 

Bullshit Sandwich

In this hectic city, I am constantly running into people whom I haven't seen in a while. We chat on the sidewalk for a bit, and inevitably, the end of the conversation sounds like this:

"Let's do lunch sometime!" or "We really should get together!" or "We should talk!"

If the person who suggests this future meeting doesn't take out their datebook (does anyone really use a datebook anymore?), I assume it is just another way to say "So long!"

If you want to get together, the most effective way is to actually set a date.

Talking about getting together sometime will get you nowhere. In my experience.

Hello My Name Is ...

Recently I've made some new acquaintances. Yay! 

Now, get this ... my full name is Peter Michael Marino, and most of my close friends call me "Pete." Some call me "Peter." Some call me "Peter Michael." And some don't call me at all. (But, that's another story.)

I accept the "Pete" nickname, since my real name is pretty damn long. 

But, I have to say that "new" folks in my life can't really call me "Pete" until they've sort of earned the "familiarity rights" to refer to me by my nickname - which takes some time. At least they have to ask if they can call me "Pete." 

I dunno. 

What I do know, is that I use "quotes" way too much, and I even use "air quotes" too much in daily conversation. I even use "air quotes" when I'm talking on the phone ...

like, while talking to a "new" person in my life ... who inevitably calls me "Pete."

Pick a Sin. Any Sin.

Obama caught some major grief from from the angry anti-abortion protesters when he spoke at Notre Dame this past weekend ... their crude posters and passionate shouts proclaiming that abortion is murder and a sin.

I wonder why willfully shooting, bombing, torturing and killing someone in a war doesn't fit into the murder and sin categories. 

Those military murderers get paid to do it ... by us.

Two Evils

What's worse ...

Walking down the busy street while texting? Or walking down the busy street while reading a Bible?

I saw both activities this week, and somehow the walking Bible-reader made me more uncomfortable and annoyed.

Hey, at least I instinctually capitalized the word "Bible."

Thanks, St. Matthias School. You done me good.

Cannibals

It disturbed me to see a pigeon pecking away at a discarded piece of fried chicken on the sidewalk. I mean, there really is something wrong with that. Why would someone throw fried chicken on the sidewalk?

Yes, You Can

On my daily travels through Manhattan, I see many street musicians doing their thang.

I've seen saxophone players, guitar players, violinists, and young men banging old buckets. 

Often, I ignore them, or I start dancing in the street.

But, I've never seen anyone "play" a can ... with another can. Until today. Watch the video for yourself ...

Seems like those two cups of coffee really did the trick.

Future's so Bright

Overheard on 8th Street ...

Tall Guy: Dude, you wanna go see a psychic?

Short Guy: What the fuck for?

Moving Parts

I am always amazed at people riding "down" escalators. 

Walking down a flight of stairs requires very little energy. 

Standing on a moving staircase requires zero energy. 

Why don't people on the escalator walk down the last few steps? 

Why do they ride it 'til the very end? 

Is it a fear of the terrifying dismount at the bottom? 

Or is it that people are just very, very lazy?