(no subject)
Walking to the T today, I saw a bunch of stuff on the sidewalk, with no one apparently selling it, and no prices. There was a guy in shorts, a t-shirt, and a baseball cap looking at the stuff as I walked up to it, and then he walked past me in the opposite direction. I looked at the books, then walked farther and saw a backpack. Its color was unattractive, but it was a rubber, like those sturdy messenger bags, and thus at least more waterproof than most. By this time I'd determined that the stuff was free, and figured, "Well, I don't really like the bag I have now, and this one's waterproof, so maybe I'll paint it or something," and headed off to the T-stop.I heard something behind me and looked around. The guy with the shorts and baseball cap was looking at me, and I didn't know what he was saying so I walked back.
"You're walking off with the most expensive item!" He didn't seem upset.
"Oh! I'm sorry, I thought everything was free. I didn't think anybody was taking money. I don't really need it."
"Yeah, I'm selling this stuff. Where you from?"
"New Hampshire."
"See, I just got back from this trip..." He handed me a newspaper, with a picture standing in front of and RV. I didn't catch what the trip was for. "...So I'm sellin' this stuff. This backpack is probably worth what, eighty bucks new? I was gonna sell it for thirty, but I'll give it to you for twenty-five, twenty, heck, I'd give it to ya for fifteen."
"Oh, haha, that's okay. I don't even really need it, I just thought it was free. I don't even like the color."
"What's wrong with the color? It's kind of purple, red..." It was brown. Pale, puke brown. "...Say, you play guitar? You give lessons?"
"Yeah."
"Why don't you give me your number. I could use some lessons. You know, I sing, play guitar, tell jokes, but when I play guitar I don't really know what I'm doin', you know? Here, call my phone. You'll hear it say, 'Hi, this is Philip. That's me."
"Okay." I call. "Hi Philip, this is Daniel. I'm calling because I give guitar lessons. My number is 603..."
"This bag, it's worth fifteen, twenty-five bucks. You gotta make more than that a lesson, thirty bucks or somethin'. I'll give it to ya as payment for our first lesson."
"Haha, maybe. We'll talk about that later."
"Great, great. Down in Florida, I spend a lotta time down there, you play guitar and people just throw money atcha. You know who I think is the greatest musician, I saw him twice in concert, is a guy named Cat Stevens. You heard of him?"
"Yeah, yeah."
"How old are you, twenty-four?" I noticed that he didn't look me in the eye much. Mostly he looked past me, sort of past my shoulder. I had a teacher like that once.
"Haha, yeah, I turned twenty-four this past week."
He said, half to himself, "Is this... April?"
"Yeah, it was April twenty-second. So wait, you knew him? Or..." I spaced out a little bit there.
"Nah, I saw him in concert, twice. The greatest songs. You know, they just had a rhythm to 'em."
"Yeah."
"You know, James Monroe, Jay Leno and Saddam Hussein were all born on April twenty-eighth? And Jay Leno used to always make jokes about Saddam Hussein, and I have to think, all that time he must've been thinkin' about how he and Saddam had the same birthday."
"Hahaha... Yeah, probably. Hey, I've got a bus to catch, I gotta get goin'. But I'll talk to you later Philip. You have a good one!"
"Hey, thanks. You too."
So either he was a really funny guy and I have another guitar student, or he is a devious mastermind with a penchant for justice who managed to get my name, phone number, and date of birth out of me in one conversation so he could later track me down and report me to the police. I'm hoping for the former, and I think it's more likely, really. But I was aware, even during the conversation, that it could be the latter, and yet kept divulging more information. By the time I got on the bus I was a little uncomfortable with the idea.
"You're walking off with the most expensive item!" He didn't seem upset.
"Oh! I'm sorry, I thought everything was free. I didn't think anybody was taking money. I don't really need it."
"Yeah, I'm selling this stuff. Where you from?"
"New Hampshire."
"See, I just got back from this trip..." He handed me a newspaper, with a picture standing in front of and RV. I didn't catch what the trip was for. "...So I'm sellin' this stuff. This backpack is probably worth what, eighty bucks new? I was gonna sell it for thirty, but I'll give it to you for twenty-five, twenty, heck, I'd give it to ya for fifteen."
"Oh, haha, that's okay. I don't even really need it, I just thought it was free. I don't even like the color."
"What's wrong with the color? It's kind of purple, red..." It was brown. Pale, puke brown. "...Say, you play guitar? You give lessons?"
"Yeah."
"Why don't you give me your number. I could use some lessons. You know, I sing, play guitar, tell jokes, but when I play guitar I don't really know what I'm doin', you know? Here, call my phone. You'll hear it say, 'Hi, this is Philip. That's me."
"Okay." I call. "Hi Philip, this is Daniel. I'm calling because I give guitar lessons. My number is 603..."
"This bag, it's worth fifteen, twenty-five bucks. You gotta make more than that a lesson, thirty bucks or somethin'. I'll give it to ya as payment for our first lesson."
"Haha, maybe. We'll talk about that later."
"Great, great. Down in Florida, I spend a lotta time down there, you play guitar and people just throw money atcha. You know who I think is the greatest musician, I saw him twice in concert, is a guy named Cat Stevens. You heard of him?"
"Yeah, yeah."
"How old are you, twenty-four?" I noticed that he didn't look me in the eye much. Mostly he looked past me, sort of past my shoulder. I had a teacher like that once.
"Haha, yeah, I turned twenty-four this past week."
He said, half to himself, "Is this... April?"
"Yeah, it was April twenty-second. So wait, you knew him? Or..." I spaced out a little bit there.
"Nah, I saw him in concert, twice. The greatest songs. You know, they just had a rhythm to 'em."
"Yeah."
"You know, James Monroe, Jay Leno and Saddam Hussein were all born on April twenty-eighth? And Jay Leno used to always make jokes about Saddam Hussein, and I have to think, all that time he must've been thinkin' about how he and Saddam had the same birthday."
"Hahaha... Yeah, probably. Hey, I've got a bus to catch, I gotta get goin'. But I'll talk to you later Philip. You have a good one!"
"Hey, thanks. You too."
So either he was a really funny guy and I have another guitar student, or he is a devious mastermind with a penchant for justice who managed to get my name, phone number, and date of birth out of me in one conversation so he could later track me down and report me to the police. I'm hoping for the former, and I think it's more likely, really. But I was aware, even during the conversation, that it could be the latter, and yet kept divulging more information. By the time I got on the bus I was a little uncomfortable with the idea.