I have a relationship with a homeless guy who bikes around Third Avenue. (He's sort of an anomaly in that he's homeless, but he does have wheels.) We're not dating or anything, but I realized he was funny after I got hit by a car last year. My knee was destroyed and I had to have surgery. The recovery was long and hard, and crutching around the streets of New York City was no picnic. (Don't even get me started on the subway at rush hour - I'm lucky to be alive.) The homeless guy took to calling me "Hop-a-long Cassidy," "Peg-Leg-Meg," and so on. A trip to the supermarket was exhausting. I'd often have to stop and rest, even though it was only a block away. "Hey Peg!" he'd yell encouragingly, "Better slow motion than no motion!" If he was in a hurry, he'd yell "Better slo-mo than no-mo!" He made me laugh.
A couple months later I got laid off from my job. I decided to change direction completely and started a home baking business,"Double-D-Lish Cupcakes!" (Bigger than average and all natural...) I often gave cupcakes to the homeless guy whenever I was baking and happened to see him on the street. He loved my cupcakes, though once he mentioned that I could ease up a little on the vanilla... He made me laugh.
It's been about a year since then, and I won't say it's been an easy one. Depression, lack of exercise, unemployment and cupcakes (my constant companion) are not a recipe for physical fitness. A few weeks ago, I was hauling my laundry down Third Avenue heading for the laundromat. The homeless guy, laughing, yelled out, "Hey Baby! Better lay off the cupcakes! You're getting big!" I froze, then spun around, not sure I'd heard correctly. (Was I just HECKLED by the homeless guy? Did that just happen?) "Stop eating those cupcakes!" he yelled. He did not make me laugh. Not even a little bit.
My first impulse was to scream, "Fuck you - at least I've got an apartment, you asshole!" But then I quickly realized that baiting a homeless guy with the fact that you have an apartment is really bad behavior and in fact makes you the asshole, so I said nothing. But silently I vowed he would never EVER get another cupcake out of me. So there.
Yesterday I was out walking Sparky and I saw the homeless guy riding his bike. I turned the corner to avoid contact, but he rode up alongside me. "Listen, " he said, "3 weeks ago I said something to you." "I remember," I said, "You called me fat." He looked crestfallen. "I was joking!" "It wasn't funny," I shot back. "But you're not really fat!" he said. And before I could stop it - a torrent of words came flying out and I found myself speech-blasting the homeless guy that he had hurt my feelings. (Even as I write this, I am totally mortified.) He apologized and rode off down the street. When he reached the corner of 18th St. and Third Avenue, he turned around, looked back at me and yelled at the top of his lungs, "YOU'RE NOT FAT, SISTER!!!"
All is forgiven; I have to go preheat the oven.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
