Chaos City
I scheduled an extremely rare day off.
On Thursday night, my beautiful wife said:
“We have a lot of errands to run tomorrow, busy day.”
I planned on just taking it easy a little and just hanging around. Would try to be patient with all that needed to be done.
You know, Mr. Happy Go Lucky.
Got up at my usual time, grabbed a coffee and waited for it to get started.
Coffee hour went smoothly. Took the dogs for a ride, went to the bank, and casually asked:
“So what’s our plan?”
(That’s important because the tug of war in our home is that I need a plan; no one else does).
“The store, maybe breakfast out, then I have to go to the hospital for my pre-op appointment and you’re taking me and waiting for me.”
Good enough.
I love breakfast when I don’t have to cook it.
“How about this?” I asked. “I’ll go to the store and you get ready. We leave her at noon.”
I got back in the nick of time.
She wasn’t ready.
“Okay,” I thought. “Stay patient.”
I actually grabbed a vacuum and cleaned a room.
“Ready, but I need to go to the bank again.”
(That wasn’t on the original agenda).
Breakfast went fine. I even handled the extra bank trip, dropped Kathy off at the front door of the hospital and headed to search the Buffalo streets for a parking spot.
I nearly jumped out of my skin as a middle-aged black man wearing a Yankees cap knocked on my driver’s side window as I was looking for change.
“What?” I asked, my impatience making its first appearance.
“Can you give me a jump? I have cables.”
Bah.
“Sure, where you at?”
“I’m Brian, what’s your name?”
“Cliff. Listen, I gotta’ get moving. Where’s your car?”
He pointed up the street and started walking around my car. He was limping badly. It occurred to me that he wanted to get into my car.
“Dear Lord,” I thought.
“I can’t walk to it,” Brian said.
I popped the lock and Brian got in.
“Thanks so much,” he said. “Before we head out can we say a little prayer?” He asked.
Brian may or may not have had a beer for lunch. He was holding his hands in prayer formation.
“Listen, dude, where’s your f***ing car?”
“Oh, oh,” he said. “I pray for your patience.”
He pointed up the street.
As I drove slowly, waiting for instruction, Brian began his pitch.
“I was struck by a car. My knee is all messed up. My car is sick, and I’m low on funds. Cliff, do you have a couple of bucks? I can get someone else to jump my car.”
I felt so dumb!
“Where’s your car parked?” I asked.
“Make a left,” he said. “How about the two dollars. I just need two.”
“Brian, I’ll help you get the car running and then we’re saying goodbye. Where is it?”
“Patience is a virtue,” he said. “Make a left at the corner.”
As I made the left, it dawned on me that we were back where we started. I pulled over.
“Goodbye, Brian.”
He didn’t get mad.
He didn’t ask for the two dollars again.
He got out.
“Bless you, Cliff.”
I was pissed at myself for being duped.
I found a spot and fished out a buck and a half to park. Then I went back into the ashtray.
I locked the door and began the short walk to the hospital door.
Brian was standing there.
I guess his car troubles were forgotten. He glanced at me.
“Brian!” I yelled.
He opened his hand before I even got close. I dropped exactly two dollars into his open palm.
“Go Yankees,” I said.
He laughed.
It was a melodic laugh.
“Thank you, Cliff. Bless you!”
He was moving better as he ambled away. He was gonna get another beer, I suppose.
That was his business, I suppose.
My mind felt chaotic, but just two bucks, right?
On Thursday night, my beautiful wife said:
“We have a lot of errands to run tomorrow, busy day.”
I planned on just taking it easy a little and just hanging around. Would try to be patient with all that needed to be done.
You know, Mr. Happy Go Lucky.
Got up at my usual time, grabbed a coffee and waited for it to get started.
Coffee hour went smoothly. Took the dogs for a ride, went to the bank, and casually asked:
“So what’s our plan?”
(That’s important because the tug of war in our home is that I need a plan; no one else does).
“The store, maybe breakfast out, then I have to go to the hospital for my pre-op appointment and you’re taking me and waiting for me.”
Good enough.
I love breakfast when I don’t have to cook it.
“How about this?” I asked. “I’ll go to the store and you get ready. We leave her at noon.”
I got back in the nick of time.
She wasn’t ready.
“Okay,” I thought. “Stay patient.”
I actually grabbed a vacuum and cleaned a room.
“Ready, but I need to go to the bank again.”
(That wasn’t on the original agenda).
Breakfast went fine. I even handled the extra bank trip, dropped Kathy off at the front door of the hospital and headed to search the Buffalo streets for a parking spot.
I nearly jumped out of my skin as a middle-aged black man wearing a Yankees cap knocked on my driver’s side window as I was looking for change.
“What?” I asked, my impatience making its first appearance.
“Can you give me a jump? I have cables.”
Bah.
“Sure, where you at?”
“I’m Brian, what’s your name?”
“Cliff. Listen, I gotta’ get moving. Where’s your car?”
He pointed up the street and started walking around my car. He was limping badly. It occurred to me that he wanted to get into my car.
“Dear Lord,” I thought.
“I can’t walk to it,” Brian said.
I popped the lock and Brian got in.
“Thanks so much,” he said. “Before we head out can we say a little prayer?” He asked.
Brian may or may not have had a beer for lunch. He was holding his hands in prayer formation.
“Listen, dude, where’s your f***ing car?”
“Oh, oh,” he said. “I pray for your patience.”
He pointed up the street.
As I drove slowly, waiting for instruction, Brian began his pitch.
“I was struck by a car. My knee is all messed up. My car is sick, and I’m low on funds. Cliff, do you have a couple of bucks? I can get someone else to jump my car.”
I felt so dumb!
“Where’s your car parked?” I asked.
“Make a left,” he said. “How about the two dollars. I just need two.”
“Brian, I’ll help you get the car running and then we’re saying goodbye. Where is it?”
“Patience is a virtue,” he said. “Make a left at the corner.”
As I made the left, it dawned on me that we were back where we started. I pulled over.
“Goodbye, Brian.”
He didn’t get mad.
He didn’t ask for the two dollars again.
He got out.
“Bless you, Cliff.”
I was pissed at myself for being duped.
I found a spot and fished out a buck and a half to park. Then I went back into the ashtray.
I locked the door and began the short walk to the hospital door.
Brian was standing there.
I guess his car troubles were forgotten. He glanced at me.
“Brian!” I yelled.
He opened his hand before I even got close. I dropped exactly two dollars into his open palm.
“Go Yankees,” I said.
He laughed.
It was a melodic laugh.
“Thank you, Cliff. Bless you!”
He was moving better as he ambled away. He was gonna get another beer, I suppose.
That was his business, I suppose.
My mind felt chaotic, but just two bucks, right?
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