Part 1: A Really Shady Guy Tries to Sell Me Drugs
I was born in Philadelphia and I still live close by outside the city. On occasion, I take mostly uneventful trips into the city. It was New Years Eve of 2010, and I took the train into the city with some friends of mine. We were taking a stroll down South Street, a street lined with stores, as we carried on a conversation. Now, I don't smoke marijuana, though many people do not believe me due to my usually scruffy, care-free image. As I talked with my friends, I remarked how I could theoretically fit in with a group of pot-heads just because of how I look and my normally relaxed state of mind. Suddenly, a man steps out in front of me, my friends take no notice and keep walking. Here I am, starring face to face with a shady-looking, even scruffier man who reacks of weed. "Hey," he says casually. I knew what was coming next. "You smoke?" I reacted naturally, wanting to escape. "No," I answered. Thinking it was over, I stepped to the side, wanting to move around the man. He, however, wasn't done yet. Intensely starring at me, the man questions, "Why not?" Now, I really wanted out without the man thinking that I'm judging him. Saying the first thing I think of, I lie. "Look, I don't have any money." I did. The man may have known this, as he made his final attempt. Reaching inside his shady long coat, he draws out and handful of what appeared to be marijuana tablets. Now, I'm no expert, but I was pretty sure some thing like that didn't exist. Presenting the tablets before me, sitting with no wrappings or anything in his bare hand, the man gives me a really shady grin. I've had enough and finally dash around the man and move down the street. The man quickly shoved his "merchandise" back into the inside pocket of his jacket, and, thankfully, gave up without chasing after me. This wasn't the first time someone tried to sell me marijuana, but it definitely stands out as the shadiest.
Part 2: An Old Lady at a Retirement Home Thinks I'm Someone Else
This story begins as I arrived at my Great Grandmother's funeral at a not-so-far-away funeral home. My family and I entered into the church section of the building. My brother and I were standing in the back of the room. As we began to walk to where my father was, I hear a raspy smoker-esque voice call from behind us, "Boys. Boys! Stop! Stop! Stop!" I turn around to find I an elderly lady sitting in a wheel chair. Having got our attention, she began to point toward her face, slightly rocking back and fourth, repeating, "Remember me? Remember me? Remember me?" Unsure of how to address this situation, I acted on my first impulse and responded, "Uh, no." She stopped and starred at my brother and I with a confused expression upon her face. With an inquiring finger wag, she questioned, "Are you from West Chester?" Again, "No," I responded. Squinting at us, she continued the interrogation, "Where are you from?" "Wallingford," I responded. "Ohhhhhh," she said, followed by a long pause. She looked around, and, turning back to my brother and I, concluded, "I thought you were from West Chester."
Part 3: I Eat Lunch with a Squirrel
In the summer of 2010, I took a 3D character modeling course at Swarthmore College through the Digital Media Academy. It was an alright course, assuming one has an interest in the subject matter. The gave out some pretty cool t-shirts, too. Anyway, it was my third day taking the class, and we had just been sent free for the hour-long lunch break. I took my time heading to the lunch hall, so I fell well behind everyone else. When I finally made my way there, I found that the lunch area had apparently been move somewhere else. So, I wander around the campus aimlessly, eating my sandwich, which was really good, as I went. Now, this is where the story enters its climax, a literary term use to define the really exciting scene in an action movie that people like to talk about whilst disregarding the rest of the movie. As I followed a pathway something caught my eye, which I assume you are clever enough to dissect from the title. Anyway, there was this squirrel chewing on a sign post, which belonged to one of those really tiny signs used to label plants. Considering that I was alone and had an hour to kill, I sat down near the squirrel, which had noticed me and mostly stopped chewing on the signpost, only offering the occasional brief gnaw. I tore a chunk of bread from my sandwich and tossed it general vicinity of the wee-beast. Now, it is to my own personal belief that it was the generally shared opinion that bread tastes better than sign posts that cause to squirrel to abandon its previously chosen meal for the newly available option. While most people rational people would leave the creature to its business and proceed with their own, I happen to have a history of feeding squirrels with strategically placed peanut-butter sandwiches, thus causing me to have a slight affection for the creatures. I must have sat their for a good thirty minutes feeding bread to that squirrel. I even almost got it to eat from my hand, but I had to return to class and abandon my bread-devouring rodent friend.
In the summer of 2010, I took a 3D character modeling course at Swarthmore College through the Digital Media Academy. It was an alright course, assuming one has an interest in the subject matter. The gave out some pretty cool t-shirts, too. Anyway, it was my third day taking the class, and we had just been sent free for the hour-long lunch break. I took my time heading to the lunch hall, so I fell well behind everyone else. When I finally made my way there, I found that the lunch area had apparently been move somewhere else. So, I wander around the campus aimlessly, eating my sandwich, which was really good, as I went. Now, this is where the story enters its climax, a literary term use to define the really exciting scene in an action movie that people like to talk about whilst disregarding the rest of the movie. As I followed a pathway something caught my eye, which I assume you are clever enough to dissect from the title. Anyway, there was this squirrel chewing on a sign post, which belonged to one of those really tiny signs used to label plants. Considering that I was alone and had an hour to kill, I sat down near the squirrel, which had noticed me and mostly stopped chewing on the signpost, only offering the occasional brief gnaw. I tore a chunk of bread from my sandwich and tossed it general vicinity of the wee-beast. Now, it is to my own personal belief that it was the generally shared opinion that bread tastes better than sign posts that cause to squirrel to abandon its previously chosen meal for the newly available option. While most people rational people would leave the creature to its business and proceed with their own, I happen to have a history of feeding squirrels with strategically placed peanut-butter sandwiches, thus causing me to have a slight affection for the creatures. I must have sat their for a good thirty minutes feeding bread to that squirrel. I even almost got it to eat from my hand, but I had to return to class and abandon my bread-devouring rodent friend.
Part 4: Truck Not Monkey
coming soon...
Chapters to Expect in the future: "I Climb a Library", "The Re-Telling of One Man's Musical Epiphany", and many other fascinating tales.
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