I’ve Been Life Punk’d.
I’ve released my caged confusion on the meaning and purpose of my personality before, but weirdos- I just don’t understand.
Scene. I’m walking up from the subway and I hear the jingle of a cup, a sound I’ve been primed to ignore. But then I hear the man say, “I’m really hungry, everyone. Please help me get food, I’m so hungry.”
Okay, well I’m grabbing my bfast right up above his bouncing change cup- mayhap I’ll grab him something?
I stand in front of the chinese bakery shelf trying to figure out what a hobo would eat. If he hasn’t eaten in awhile you don’t want to shock is stomach and you don’t want anything too weird- i’ve seen a homeless man throw away food I’ve personally given him and I try soothe myself by saying, just because he’s homeless doesn’t mean he lost his tastebuds as well. So there I am, taking up 5 minutes of my life trying to find the perfect pastry for a starving man. I decide on a simple soft sweet bread and go to ring up purchases- adding on a small iced coffee (for myself).
I proceed to tell the cashier I want a small iced coffee 3 times, THREE TIMES. I used the words: Small, Iced, Coffee.
She finally nods and asks, “Cream and sugar?”
And then I watch as she proceeds to pour me a small hot coffee. Small. HOT. Coffee. This has happened before. Numerous times. And normally I say something but I, the person who had a trivial pursuit moment of the best homeless man pastry purchase, feels bad that the hot coffee poured would be dumped. I’m not going to waste food while en route to feed a homeless man. But I am pissed, I might be an angel but dammit- I wanted iced coffee.
So, I harness my emotions and focus on the task at hand. I get his pastry out, walk outside and towards his perch to…..find that he had disappeared completely. Gone. Totally gone. I search the streets with my eyes and listen for his jangling cup but nay- he has left me alone with a pastry I don’t want, a hot coffee I don’t want, and a heart that feels slightly tricked.
What. The. Front door. WHY!
I take the first real moment of my day and try to do something nice for someone to not only get fucked out of the treat ERIKA wanted but also having spent money on an item meant for someone who has no money and STILL doesn’t get to eat.
Is this life? Or is this MY life? Should I not think of others and do for others because the universe likes to fuck with me on a seemingly personal basis?
Homeless man- if you’re out there somewhere and reading this post over the shoulders of those who bought a subscription to my blog (which equals nobody) please know, I tried. I tried.