Friday, June 07, 2013

NYC Micro Story

As stated below, I was in New York City for a few days a couple of weeks ago. A lot of stuff happened. Mostly it was me walking up and down stairs. NYC has an alarming number of stairs. By the way, I hate stairs. But there was too much other stuff to put in that one post so maybe for the next couple of weeks I'll post a little snippet of a thing that happened.

Today I shall tell you about the Buddhist.

I was walking towards Rockefeller Plaza on the third day when suddenly I felt this hand place a bracelet on my wrist while saying a word that I couldn't understand because it was in an accent that I only recognized from retro made Quentin Taratino movies and Kung Fu, that 90s TV show with David Carradine and his grouchy cop son. Eventually I understood that he was saying, "donation donation donation". Was he donating me a bracelet? No. He wanted one in return for it. But before I could gather my thoughts about that, he was shoving a book in my face so I could put in my name and what I wanted, for example "peace" or "love" and I guess the idea was that I give him a donation and they, what, pray I get what I write in the book...? It wasn't clear. But despite the oddness and suddenness of this spiritual boost in return for cashy money transaction, I ACTUALLY THOUGHT ABOUT WHAT TO WRITE. Because, yeah, he's a real monk. Sure. Uh huh. That was when he made it clear that I had to pay for the bracelet. And I did. Because I'm a goddamn sucker. Of course, that doesn't occur to me until I take about five steps away from him and even then it was still a dazed, "Pretty sure I just got ripped off by a monk...." half thought.

I carry on, because really, what was I going to do, when suddenly I got a tickle in my throat and I couldn't stop coughing. Finally I had to stop walking because the coughing got so bad and I actually said to myself, "Oh my god, he poisoned me!" as if the bracelet was a toxic assassins gift and he just killed me.

I thought that. For real. As in, I really had those words go across my brain.

Obviously I didn't die.

So... good news?

I do like the bracelet though. And I've worn it every day since.

Take that, monk.

Show quote of the day: "Who gets punched out by a pacifist?"


LL said...

Those look just like chokecherries...

Mr. Schprock said...

That actually looks like a pretty nice bracelet.

Where I work in Boston, we used to have a homeless guy asking for money to help his cancer-stricken son. Then something happened in the news, maybe a hurricane or tornado, and he changed to asking for donations to help the victims. It was a hard choice between him and the Red Cross.