I thought it would be fun to tell a story on Saturday. I love hearing people’s stories. Life is, generally, rather usual. Most days our most interesting stories are about the new brand of cereal we tried, or the fact our son says the f-word instead of “truck” (love those toddlers). However, sometimes we have truly exciting days, and we talk about these days at dinner parties. Then our friends invite us back for dinner, because we’re interesting people with thrilling lives.
Consider yourself invited to dinner. I want to hear your story, so maybe write it down and link it in the comment section. Or you can just post in the comment section of FB. Here’s my story for today. Enjoy!
Once I was LITERALLY chased through the streets of Chicago by a homeless man.
He asked me for money as I walked myself to the Art Museum. I had big plans to hate Picasso and cry over the giant A Sunday Afternoon by Georges Seurat for the second day in a row but he called to me as I walked along, and trying to be polite, I stopped. He asked me for money and suddenly I remembered the giant wad of cash I had in my purse (TOURIST!) and thought it would be unwise to flash my wealth on the street. So, I said no.
Then he started chasing me. Well, he TRIED to chase me. I tried to walk casually, ignoring him and praying I would remember the way to the museum and not accidentally turn onto a dark alley. He was shouting things behind me, and honestly I have no idea what they were. I began to panic.
I would have, you know, taken a taxi from my hotel to the museum, but sadly I had just watched “The Bone Collector”(HATE it!) and taxi rides seemed like a bigger gamble than a foot race with a homeless man.
So there I was. Nineteen. Alone in the city. Carrying a ton of cash. Freaking out.
Suddenly two African American men stepped in front of me. They asked me if the homeless man was bothering me. I think I nodded. One of the men put his arm around my me and said to the homeless man, “Hey, leave her alone. She’s my cousin.”
They started arguing about whether or not I was really their cousin. The homeless man found it improbable. Finally the homeless man gave up and walked away. The men asked me if I was okay, I said I was, and we all went our separate ways.
The experience reminded me that some people in this world are crazy and slightly alarming. But mostly, it reminded me that there are great people in the world. People who step in when they see a stranger with a panicked look in their eye and a homeless guy at their heels.
I still didn’t take a taxi home. I walked with confidence. I didn’t feel so alone in the city. I saw people on every corner, and suddenly these strangers were my friends.
But I still hated Picasso.
|Shel as Dali|