I have wanted to start a blog for a while and I remembered...I already have one.
I am now a pharma rep where my job is to walk from Dr’s office to Dr’s office carrying many lbs worth of shit, fighting with the cattle runs of people for the little sidewalk space Manhattan has to offer. Conversely however, I take the opportunity to people watch – it’s my most beloved of hobbies. What better city is there to have the opportunity to encounter the most oddest of human beings other than Manhattan? I often try to observe and also converse with the most weirdest of weirdo’s, the most nomadic of vagabonds, 'professionals' (whatever that means), ditz's, suits, Rasta’s, etc. etc.
I'll take this time to list my top 3 favorite encounters (plus one extra for good luck) thus far:
Location: Starbucks
Time: Morningish
Here I was, sitting at a table sipping my chai and minding my own business when an elderly woman aged in her 80's asked if she could sit in the empty seat in front of me. I, of course, accepted her presence at the table graciously. She was reading a newspaper as I did some ‘work’. Suddenly, out of nowhere, this woman's face altered. It was white and heavy breathing commenced. I nervously asked if she was all right. She was unable to articulate her thoughts. Only awkward noises emerged from her gaping mouth. She really could have used a breath mint, but that is neither here nor there.
My initial thought was: heart attack. That idea subsided when I noticed her flapping arms as if she were a bird with tapered wings. The other patrons at Starbucks also grew increasingly concerned for this woman's wellbeing. She was wheezing, panting and subsequently fear engulfed her eyes.
I cannot lie; I was panicking quietly so that she wouldn’t know I too was apprehensive. She than glared into my eyes and showed me the headline of the newspaper she was reading. It was something to the effect of: "Pope's returns to NY; has a plan of blowing up Manhattan" I laughed when I read it. The woman grew angry. "How can you laugh?" The woman asked me. "Sept 11 and now this? And the Pope –The Pope – of all people!!!!" I than had to explain to her that "The Onion" is a 'joke' newspaper. It's not true.
HAHAHAHAH, poor woman. She was mortified!
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Location: Leaving Beth Gorden-Tennent's Bday Bash at the Rusty Knot
Time: Early Morning
Accomplices: Haidi Zhu, Chris Garcia
Here I am trying to hail down a cab on the corner of W11 and West Side Highway where much to my dismay, no cabs stopped. Instead, I wound up hailing down an off duty MTA bus. This gentleman pulled in front of myself, my roommate and best friend, opened the door and told us to get in. I was hesitant however, Haidi and Garcia walked in immediately. I followed suit. And YES, Spare me the question… if my friends were to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge, I probably would too. In fact, I think that sounds like fun.
As soon as we get in and sit down, the bus driver closes the door and embarks our journey to our desired destination. He was rambling on about what newspapers he's been in, where he's been quoted and 'dares' us to Google him. He was clearly drugged up. He gives us his card. Name: Tony Palombella. He than shows us his bottle of red wine in a brown bag he keeps right next to him at all times. We laughed and enjoyed ourselves. Bus driver and passengers also were enjoying the pleasure of smoking cigarettes on the bus. But you didn’t hear that from me.
Tony decided it would be a swift and better idea to drive into a ONE way street the WRONG way to enter the dilapidated bus depot. May I remind you, we are in a bus and NOT in a smart car. The whole street was blocked due to our 'wrong way' entrance into the street. We enter the depot and get off the bus. He introduces us to the other Bus Drivers as 'his friends'. We exchanged hesitant smiles and polite Hellos. We than walk through the depot to the parking lot and enter into his personal vehicle. Haidi and I in the back of his circa 1980’s Honda Accord, Garcia in the front.
He informs us of his ‘awe-inspiring’ karaoke skills. He tells us he’s a star and gives us his ‘Best of Tony Palombella Karaoke’ CD. He put his karaoke music on FULL blast in the car while he drove us to our final destination. The Wharf, 3rd b/w 39 and 38.
What a nice guy, huh...Google him, I swear... Tony Palombella
Tony Palombella in the New York Times
Tony Palombella in the New York Times, one more time...
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Location: Outside Spring Street Lounge
Time: Early Morning
Accomplice: Sal
English or Irish football (soccer) hooligan looking of an elderly man where around his neck was a white lace scarf wrapped alongside a pink and wearing a full black terrycloth type sweat suit. Lobster in hand. Yes, you read correctly...a LARGE lobster in his hand.
He called the lobster his pet crustacean and made it walk across the windows of the bar and store fronts, as if he was a 6 year old boy playing with toy cars and GI Joe’s. He said he loved that crustacean, very much.
I feel bad for the lobster.
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Location: Somewhere in Manhattan
Time: Circa 3 days
Accomplice: All of Matty B's friends (none of us are involved but him and possibly Canella)
Only a few words are necessary: Matty B's quest for vengeance.
Those of you who are lucky enough to know this story will know what I mean. In the words of Rob Stroud: "I have a friend who fights crime".
Enough said.
(This was not at all a funny situation, though I find it imperative to find the humor in even the most horrible of situations.)
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