My Diary

Sunday night/Monday morning was a bit of an adventure for Chuck and me. I’ve included below a diary of the events. Times are approximate, and get wildly inaccurate as the night goes on:

11:30PM – Power goes off

11:45 – Get panicked call from neighbor (Miniyee): can’t get Chuck on phone, is worried about power outage, sees many emergency vehicles outside

11:49 – Conclude even backup systems non-operational, possibly including alarms; disaster possible

11:55 – Agree to go investigate with Chuck, report back to Miniyee (and other neighbors) on situation

12:00AM – Grab Chuck’s very bright LED lamp and start heading downstairs from 18th floor

12:01 to 12:10 – Pick up many people along the way, scared lightless people hoping to piggyback on Chuck’s beacon of hope

12:04 – I make first Lord of the Rings reference (after our group expands to 9 people trekking into the dark)

12:12 – Get to bottom floor, discover outage not localized to our building, but biggest problems are; emergency vehicles gone, problem diagnosed as part of grid, city and electric company could take hours to repair it, but no immediate danger

12:13 – Report to Miniyee, who tells the neighbors

12:14 – Hungry, tired, thirsty, and not wanting to trek up all those flights of stairs immediately, head off to Wawa with Chuck

12:15 – Grow excited that the Hoagiefest deal should have switched at midnight from cheesesteak to turkey

12:17 – Meet Penn grad student who lives in building also going to Wawa, exchange pleasantries and conspiracy theories about the night’s events

12:20 – Get to Wawa. Hoagiefest switch did not happen at midnight. Employees useless and unhelpful. Had to settle for hot dog and metabolism-boosting pomegranate tea (needed for trek back up the stairs).

12:35 – Arrive back at apartment, only to be told the door to the stairwell only opens from inside as security measure; elevators still operational; dozens of people stranded in lobby

12:45 – Crowd gets sick of waiting, calls someone for help

1:00 – Chuck gets sick of waiting for the person called to actually come down, calls Miniyee for help

1:01 – Miniyee goes searching for some company since it’s dark and scary

1:15 – First person called arrives, opens door

1:15 and 5 seconds – Miniyee arrives, with two neighbors. Receives many thanks from Chuck and myself. Her words and smile are gracious, but her eyes hate us and our very existence. Faced with climbing up 18 flights of stairs, I agree with her eyes.

1:16 – Second Lord of the Rings reference made (by me), though at Chuck’s prompting. LED lamp is like the Light of Elendil.

1:17 – Third Lord of the Rings reference made (also by me). Some joke about heading back into Mordor. Stupid stairs.

1:18 – Someone in the group mentions that at least there’s no 13th floor. Trying not to be a Goapy Gus, I decline to point out that the first few floors are extra tall, and the ground floor is at least two stories. I do, however, make a clever joke about Ms. Zarves living on the 13th floor. No one laughs. Exercise must make people humorless.

1:19 – I observe, out loud, that there’s this thing called a “Stairmaster,” and I wonder why on Earth (or Middle Earth) anyone would pay money for it

1:20 – Miniyee makes joke about this stair-climbing being the most exercise she’s ever seen me do. Too winded at this point for snappy comeback.

1:21 – Walk Miniyee and other 10th floor neighbors to their doors and chat for a bit, make sure they’re OK—ostensibly to be gentlemanly (but really to procrastinate imminent stair-climbing)

1:29 – Resume intrepid trek, despite overwhelming urge to set up a base camp and make for the summit in the morning

1:32 – Return to apartment. Thighs hurt.

1:33 – Exchange pleasantries and commiseration with Chuck. Borrow an LED lamp for the evening so as not to injure myself getting to bed.

1:40 – Get ready for bed. Wish shower was operational.

1 minute later at 2:00+ AM – Finally look at clock. Night’s events took longer than thought. Exhausted. Barely remember to make sure cell phone alarm will wake me up, as normal alarm is inoperable. Toss and turn for a bit (no A/C, hot and humid night, just climbed up all those stairs). Finally fall asleep.

6:30 – Alarm goes off. Power back on. Only 84 hours until the weekend.

My Chicago Hotel

I am in the weirdest hotel right now. At times it goes above and beyond the nicest resorts I've ever seen, and at other times it's less functional than a Motel 6. Overall, though, I like it.

When I arrived, I had to take stairs up to the lobby. Not totally odd, but usually there's an elevator or escalator for second floor lobbies. Turns out there is an elevator, but it's carefully concealed. When I checked in they asked if I'd like to partake in the wine reception. I looked around. Turns out, every night there's a wine reception for all the guests, no extra charge! All you can drink! Good wines too. Between delays and horrible cab rides, my 2 hour flight was the center of a trip that took 7 hours door to door. I hadn't eaten in even longer than that, and apparently I got drunk on I-forget-how-many glasses. Pretty swanky for a hotel though. Then, I got a free hand massage! They had a professional at the reception. My hands still smell great, and this was hours ago. Pretty ritzy so far.

Then I went upstairs to check out my room. On the left as I walked in, I saw double-doors with the kind of handles that don't move relative to the doors in which they're embedded. On the right was a single door with a turn-knob. I had to go to the bathroom, so I turned to the right. Almost made a mess of the closet. That's right, the closet doors led to the bathroom, and the normal door led to the closet.

In the closet, where one would expect to find extra towels or sheets or pillows or a bathrobe, is a set of leopard-print boxers and camisole (of matching pattern). I'm going to repeat that. My hotel room contains A LEOPARD PRINT CAMI AND BOXERS.

The room is quite nice. Big comfortable bed, free fast internet, and a giant flatscreen HD TV. Temperature control works great. But then there's no outlet. There are no fewer than 4 phone/cable jacks in the room, but I couldn't find an electrical outlet. I know there has to be one, because lamps are on and the clock works, but I can't find it. Turns out there's one behind the bed and one behind the dresser with the TV on top. Drunk as I was, I rearranged all the furniture in my room. Now everything is back where it was, and my laptop is plugged in. I just realized I'm going to have to do it again to recharge my cell phone, and once more before I leave.

Sitting next to me is a wonderfully functional and beautiful set of glasses on a silver tray with matching ice bucket. I've been up and down every hallway on my floor, and I can say with certainty that there is no ice machine. OK then.

So I'm sitting here in my swanky PoMo hotel room, next to an eternally empty ice bucket, staring at a wall with enough repeating ovals and rectangles to make me consider taking LSD so I'll hallucinate something a little more down to earth. I'm drunk on free wine and relaxed from a fantastic hand massage, confused about the bathroom doors and the contents of my closet, and feeling Chuck's perpetual longing for ice. I see the "charging" icon in the corner of my laptop's screen, and I feel an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. The free bottled water the front desk gave me is of exceptionally high quality, and I find it quite tasty. Sobriety can't be far away now.

People really like Obama out here.

(Special thanks to Cookie, who made my night by having Chicago-style pizza with me.)

So I just got back from a ridiculous night of drinking and bar hopping with a Managing Director of a mutual fund company and a State Representative, who gave us an awesome nighttime tour of the capital. My favorite moment came as we were all yelling about national economic policy to a bar-provided soundtrack of Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'." The people you meet in a Harrisburg.

I also can't wait to be home in what I hope is 18 hours.

My First First Aid Kit

Today I realized I've had the same first aid kit since freshman year of college. It's a small blue and white box my mother got for me. It's running a little low on supplies, but so far I haven't had to replace any yet.

Those of you who don't know me very well might think this is the beginning of a charming vignette, painted with the imagination brush of a guy who doesn't get injured very often. The story could wind up at fond memories of my mother, and how she taught me to take care of myself or was always looking out for me.

Those of you who know me a little better already realize something is amiss. "Wait a second," you think, "this guy can hurt himself playing Ping Pong or Super Nintendo...and in fact has, multiple times! This makes no sense at all!"

But those of you who know me better still are thinking, "This makes perfect sense; he may hurt himself a lot, but he's really bad at finding stuff and remembering where he put things in his own apartment."

Thanks for looking out for me, Mom. You've been taking care of me by proxy, admittedly quite intermittently, for just over 5 years now.

I wonder if this is some kind of record for longest-lasting-first-aid-kit-owned-by-someone-who-injures-himself-as-much-as-I-do.

So I saw an old rerun of Studio 60 (a show recommended to me by First Tiger--not bad, but no West Wing). Anyway, a pregnant character played by Amanda Peet placed a huge breakfast order, and I started developing a little celebrity crush. Then she said "and pancakes," and I swooned. Then her assistant came back ten seconds later with a bowl of some kind of cereal. The person she was eating with said "he got your order wrong" to which she replied "No, this is what I eat while I'm waiting for the food."

At this point I both fell in love and decided I should probably take one of those home pregnancy tests...

I just got back from the Eagles game. Preseason makes me hungry.

My Passover Diary

Day 1: The seder last night was delicious. Still have yet to decide whether or not I'm keeping Passover. As long as Mom's cooking, though, it's easy, so I might as well keep my options open. Matza brye is delicious. They should serve it at IHOP.

Day 2: The second seder was also delicious. Used Passover as excuse to have lunch with coworker I haven't seen in a while. Had to eat a salad, but it was worth it. Beginning to think I might keep it this year. The idea of keeping my streak alive, and ergo a smooth pattern intact, becomes surprisingly persuasive. Pondering the addition of "Overcome OCD" to my "To Do" List.

Day 3: Jewish guilt setting in. Decided to keep at least one version of Passover (the regular kind, and/or my "no-chocolate" kind--replacing the "bread of affliction" with a product actually grown by slaves). Still have consumed no chocolate or leavening. May wind up doing both; wouldn't that be hardcore.

Day 4: I can do this. I just don't want to. Wishing I had good reason not to, but in absence of rationale I consider legitimate, I eat some vegetable-laden Chinese food. Thanks, Grandpa, for the corn syrup in the cola, which is making this deceptively colorful pile of bland mediocrity remotely edible. Dinner consists of a jar of applesauce. Still no chocolate or leavening.

Day 5: Thanking the Lord yet again I'm technically Sephardic by Jewish Law. Rampant sexism has it's benefits. I think of my paternal grandfather appreciatively as I eat surprisingly edible sushi I bought in a train station. I also down another salad. Have now taken 3 leafy bullets this week for the J-Team. Still no chocolate or leavening.

Day 6: The Oreo Cakesters in the office vending machine mock me as I walk by. They call me names like "insane" and "crazy." I refuse to let their childish taunts make me question my sanity. I can hold out until tomorrow night; the wyvern told me so. Still the prettiest.

Day 7: Freedom! Sweet juicy freedom! The Red Sea of despair parts like the warm, welcoming mouth of my pizza box, that wonderful cardboard crucible containing my post-holiday redemption. Barbecue Chicken Redemption is particularly delicious. As I celebrate with DeluxX, Sheba, Chuck and his new girlfriend, Lucy (who brought me a cannoli!), I have renewed appreciation for liberty, for freedom, for those who have neither, and for the myriad leavening agents that I consider true and valued friends.

My Business Trip to NY

Yesterday I had to travel with some others to New York City.

First let me explain something: I'm not really supposed to blog about my job, as I now work in public finance. Many of you may wonder or have wondered why I've failed to even mention, much less talk about, my new job. Well, it's a cool job in which I get to help with the building of bridges and schools and hospitals and saving cities in distress. That said, given the nature of the business, should anything we work on become a matter of public interest or investigation, everything I say in any venue about it can be subpoenaed. Plus even without a subpoena I might get in trouble. Basically, I'm happy to talk about a lot of it with people (especially since I'm still in training)--so feel free to bring it up when chatting--but we've all been strongly advised not to scatter lots of written records and opinions all over the world. Also, in many cases we'll have a "no comment" on-the-record policy with the press unless specifically asked to explain something by a client (and we can't say "no comment" while posting online comments)...and I know at least one journalist who reads this blog fairly regularly. Sorry, Lizmonster.

So back to my story, a bunch of us had to go to New York, and the line of the day came from someone who had lived in NY for a while an loved it. For some reason I'm thinking of "Princeton" from Avenue Q as a good way to describe him, so we'll go with that pseudonym.

Princeton: "Why does it smell like urine?"
Me: "Because we're in a train station and we're in New York."
Princeton: "Oh. Right."

Also the weather sucked. True story.

And for those of you who lived with me in college, I ran into a certain panda bear near ground zero. 4 million people on the island and I actually ran into someone I knew. The mathematics behind the probability of that happening are more interesting than anything else that happened on the trip.

My Review of the American Gladiators Finale

Eight weeks ago 24 hopeful gladiators set out on a journey that would test their physical limits. Tonight, two men and two women stand poised to face off, vying for the simple title of “Champion.”

This will be, by far, my longest post ever, since it will be a free-associating unedited running commentary and play-by-play. I have no idea how it will turn out. It might be bad. If you’re not interested, I highly recommend you skip this post. I’ll be back to my usual commentary, humor, analysis, ideas and stories soon enough.

A youth counselor. A sales clerk. A high school teacher. A soccer mom. These are the contenders on the brink of money, fame, a new car, a title, and undying glory.

Chuck and I are pulling for Monica, the soccer mom, in the women’s competition. She’s nice, friendly, positive, and fun-loving, thriving in and on this competition and shattering the stereotypes of being “just a mom.” This is Super Mom, one of many unappreciated American heroes who collectively do far more for us, whose efforts have a more positive impact, than every actor, athlete, member of Congress and other so called leaders and “role models” put together. [Chuck: “It also helps that she’s cute.”]

In the men’s competition, we’re pulling for Alex, the high school teacher and wrestling coach who doesn’t want the money for himself—but for his school’s athletic programs. He’s doing it for his kids, proving that anything’s possible and showing that putting greater things above oneself can unlock the potential of that self.

Alex’s opponent, Evan, is bigger, younger, faster, and most importantly his abilities are perfectly tailored for the Eliminator, the final, and by far the most important, event. Monica’s opponent, Shanay, is a little too intense and annoying. [Chuck, watching her lift an interviewer: “She also has a history of abusing newscasters…but it’s not like we don’t like her; we just like Monica more.”]

They’ve added interviews and backstories for the final contestants—which helps them fill the two hours. [Chuck: “We’re 15 minutes into the show, and not a single competition has happened yet.” Lots of commercials though.]

Ladies’ Event 1: Hang Tough: The ladies take turns trying to get from one platform to another by swinging from rings suspended high above a pool of water while a gladiator tries to take them down. In this case, Siren is the opponent. (Side note: I think Siren’s the cutest female gladiator, but Chuck has a crush on Crush.) Siren quickly got a hold of Monica and took her down, but Monica is still good spirited. This raises an interesting question of long-term strategy: if a gladiator’s hanging on, do you fight? Or should you not tire yourself out given how many more events are ahead of you? Your odds of winning are virtually none, and a tie only gets you 5 points. I say just drop, but then again, I like Excel and these fierce contenders like exercising. Shanay is downright terrible at this event tonight, barely able to swing from ring to ring. Siren made quick work of her using her “powerful legs” (as observed by one of our hosts for the evening, the famous and infamous Hulk Hogan).

Men’s Event 1: Hang Tough: In this one, the guys have to go up against Wolf, the gladiator with the most personality. His animal persona, beast-like attitude, and hilarious comic-book like taunts. In the first episode, when told he was mean “up there” (in this event) he announced, “I’m mean everywhere!” and wandered off. Alex got past him in a prior episode, but Wolf got the best of him tonight. Wolf slipped, however, when facing Evan, who, though shocked, managed to get to the other side for 10 points. [Chuck: “Evan’s ‘flail like a fish strategy’ pays off.” Hulk Hogan agrees: “You looked like a monkey who couldn’t find his banana.”]

[Chuck: “It’s been 45 minutes and we’ve gone through all of one competition for each gender.”]

Ladies’ Event 2: Assault: A gladiator in front of a large target fires tennis balls at contestants, who run from projectile to projectile. If hit, the contestant leaves. If they stay alive for a minute, the contestant gets 5 points. If the contestant hits the target, the gladiator is subjected to a fireworks-escorted launching into a pool of water. Shanay used my strategy to start, and didn’t even try with the slingshot (the first projectile). It’s almost impossible to get a hit with it, and it takes a lot of time. After firing a token shot, however, she screwed up later and got hit. She started out smart, but didn’t keep her head in the game. Energy and athleticism don’t make up for bad decisions and overly rushed aiming. WOW! Monica just hit the target with the slingshot! Out of nowhere, doing what no one has ever done before, she hit the target with a slingshot, and Hellga got dunked. Monica in an interview: “Work smarter not harder!” I am THOROUGHLY impressed. [Chuck: “That just happened.”] Monica’s stock is rising, and receives 10 points to Shanay’s 3.

Men’s Event 2: Assault: Alex shows his sense of humor by mock-throwing the slingshot ball. His slingshot attempt predictably misses, and then he gets hit. This wasn’t so much a bad run by Alex, but amazing sharp-shooting by Justice and some bad luck. Evan manages to hit the target with the second device, the turret, using my strategy of spending lots and lots of time lining up the perfect shot (this station comes with cover and is by far the easiest to aim). Evan wins points because he’s competing in part to honor the memory of his deceased mother, but he needs to calm down when he talks.

Ladies’ Event 3: Joust: The quintessential American Gladiators event pairs contestants up with Crush, Chuck’s gladiator crush. Two combatants. Two elevated platforms. Two large sticks with big padded cylinders on the end. Last one standing wins. Monica’s head took a beating as soon the whistle blew, but managed to stay in until there were less than 2 seconds remaining. Were the event 28.3 seconds long, she’d have had a 5 point draw. But the ever-positive and good-spirited soccer mom finishes out with zero. Though her body is soaked, her spirit is far from doused, as evidenced by her jubilant post-joust interview with Hulk. She’s got her eye on the prize, and her disposition seems to surpass even what one would expect from a champion: she acts like a champion living her dream. (Shanay managed to hang on for 5 points, though she landed on her butt, for which a gladiator was once declared the loser. Different rules for the two combatants, or did the judges not notice or not call it soon enough? If the rules are different, I still say the dominant strategy is to hug the platform, as nothing the gladiator’s allowed to do could knock you off from that position.)

Men’s Event 3: Joust: Titan, who reminds me of Cyclops the X-man in his clean-cut good-looking team spokesperson role, will be the enormous opponent dwarfing our intrepid, though comparatively diminutive, contestants. The last time he fought Evan, he knocked Evan off with one hit. This time, it took almost a full 20% of the time it took me to type that last sentence to drop Evan in the drink. [Chuck: “Evan’s problem is that he told Titan his strategy before facing him.] To Evan’s credit, he did double the number of hits he took compared to last time. Alex, now behind 20-1, remains behind 20-1, though he lasted more than twice as long and kept his good spirits, admitting his tiny size gave him virtually no chance. Knowing physics can only get you so far against a guy who has twice the mass, twice the reach, and four times the strength.

Women’s Event 4: The Pyramid: Our heroes try to hit a button at the top of an Agro-Crag style pyramid made out of gym mats and cushions while gladiators try to stop them. Both contests go at once, with one gladiator assigned to each. If they can get above a dotted line, they get 5 points. Hitting the button ends the competition with a reward of 10 points. This actually looks like a LOT of fun, because people throw each other all over the place and off of pyramids, meanwhile everything is so soft and padded that the contestants would be laughing were it not for the excruciating agony of failure, which hurts more than any ankle sprain of concussion ever could. Good spirits and the right attitude are the best long-range weapon in this competition, which means Monica has an edge. These gladiators leave both contestants scoreless, and Chuck and I especially enjoyed the part where Crush kept throwing Shanay. She looked frustrated.

Men’s Event 4: Pyramid: If Alex can’t score points here, Evan’s lead going into the Eliminator, where points translate into a head start, may be insurmountable, especially given Evan’s talent for the event. Our second favorite male gladiator, Toa, is paired up against Evan. Toa’s cousin is none other than The Rock, and Toa frankly has more brawn and personality in his laugh than Mr. Rock has in his whole so-called-acting career. Dressed like a ceremony-performing island-dweller, Toa shouts “It’s my volcano!” while Alex gets past the dotted line to ensure a 5 point minimum. I personally think Alex’s dominant strategy here is to just impede Evan rather than going for the win. Oh well, Evan finishes scoreless anyway.

Ladies’ Event 5: The Wall: Contestants have a head start climbing a rock wall. Gladiator’s follow and try to pull them off. First one to the top gets 10 points, second gets 5, getting dunked in the water below results in a goose-egg, as well as the chance the crowd will chance “nananana nananana heyheyhey goodbye.” Also, that looks ridiculous when typed out. Monica and Shanay are close, and the gladiators are close to both of them. Shanay wasn’t paying attention and had her foot grabbed, meanwhile Monica sidestepped danger and scampered up the final quarter for 10 points. Shanay just barely hangs on for 5. Monica gives a happy, giggly, and very straightforward interview. Shanay uses terrible analogies, and not in the funny-on-purpose way. Going into the Eliminator, Monica’s 20-13 score gives her a 3.5 second head start.

Men’s Event 5: The Wall: [Chuck: “I feel like this was rigged against Alex.”] He’s got a point. Alex has a sense of humor about it, but all of these events favor Evan’s skills, whereas events like Quake, Hit and Run, the Gauntlet and Powerball favor Alex’s. Either this is by design, or Alex has the unluckiest random event-selection possible. Bee Tee Double-you, it turns out that Alex is a rock climbing instructor who’s been climbing for years. No surprise, he breaks a record to score 10 points, but Alex still beats his gladiator for 5. Evan’s 19 point lead (and 9.5 second head start) will probably be decisive in the Eliminator, as it’s an event that favors Evan even without a point differential.

MEN’S ELIMINATOR: This is it. Winner gets a cool hundred grand, an SUV, and the chance to come back as an American Gladiator next season. The men are going first, and Chuck surmises that this is because it’s not a very exciting race (at least compared to the women’s race). Given Evan’s 9.5 second head start, I’m inclined to agree with his speculation as to why the pattern was broken. Evan’s talking about how much his mother taught him and his family about commitment, serving others, and perseverance.

Could it be that the theme for this season of American Gladiators will be motherhood? We could very well be looking at two champions, one there because of and to honor his mother, the other there as a soccer mom living her dream and showing her kids, and kids everywhere, that they really can do anything.

Folks, this one was never even close. Evan shatters his own eliminator record, and combining that with his 9.5 second head start, he wins by a wide margin. He credits his mother with the inspiration and motivation to do this. He dug deep, thought of her, and conquered what may be the world’s most famous obstacle course race. Alex finishes out with a great attitude, ready to “go back to [his] classroom with his head held high.” I’m sure he’ll still be a hero to them as he goes back to being an average every-day hero, teaching history and coaching wrestling.

WOMEN’S ELIMINATOR: Monica is excited, feeling blessed, and happy. She’s also amused by her kids’ advice (backseat gladiatoring?). This has drama: Monica has a 3 second head start, while Shanay’s best time is 3 seconds faster than Monica’s.

Monica starts off by climbing over the wall without even using the rope. Good for her. Shanay’s close behind, but Monica’s leap seems to have extended her lead to almost 5 seconds (I estimate). Shanay closes the gap on the cargo-net climb to a mere 1 second. Shanay’s upper body strength seems to be failing, as Monica pulls away on the hand-bike. Monica beats Shanay to the top of the pyramid, and hits the Travelator first. Both women slip a little on the 45 degree fast moving treadmill, but Shanay slides down while Monica holds on, bursting through the wall to become the American Gladiators Champion! Go Monica! Her husband and daughters run out to congratulate her, and she introduces them to her adoring fans, who will have the chance to stay her fans as she becomes the next American Gladiator. Her husband on being married to a gladiator: “I’d better watch my back at home a little more…”

The story of the season: In a battle that included personal trainers, doctors, United States Marines, and plenty of athletes, a soccer mom has become the American Gladiators Champion. She’s the kind of role model I’d want my daughters to look up to, and the first example I’d bring up (along with my own mother) to confront any stereotypes about a stay-at-home soccer mom. And to any readers out there who want to be a full-time mom but feel like you should be something else (or something “more”), to you I say look at Monica. She was just as awesome before American Gladiators proved it to the world, and she clearly proves that being a soccer mom doesn’t cut off your possibilities. I know there are a few of you out there, and I believe there are more than I know.

Cheesy (and ergo appropriate for American Gladiators) moral: follow your dreams.

My Roommate's Electronic Mall Madness

Chuck just acquired Electronic Mall Madness. He found it. For most of us, this is a bizarre throwback to an era when tween girls were even more annoying than they are now, to an era where hairstyles were large and in-your-face, to an era where making a board game talk was considered "special effects" and to an era when boys would roll their eyes uncomfortably and the now-retroactively hilarious commercials for such products.

If, however, for one of you out there, it is also a throwback to a nostalgic bit of childhood from which you drew enjoyment and would now derive some measure of inner happiness by indulging the Electronic Mall Madness playing child you left behind long ago, I believe Chuck doesn't have any idea what to do with it and is considering selling the item.

My New Quarter

I was walking to Cynara's last night, and a girl/woman (don't know what to call people about my age anymore) dropped some change about 7 meters ahead of me. At first I didn't think anything of it--it's not usually worth bending over for change--but then I saw it was a quarter. A precious activator of laundry machines lying right there in front of me. I picked it up.

Then I felt guilty, because, like Space Invaders, people who drop quarters need to do laundry too. So I accelerated my walking pace and proferred the coin, saying, "I think you dropped this."

"Oh..." replied the girl/woman, "Yeah...I did that on purpose. I don't like change so I let other people have it. You can keep it if you want."

This caught me off guard. After reiterating my offer to return to her what I saw as a not-insignificant fraction of a load of laundry or vending machine purchase, all I was left able to say was "Well...thank you. You're a very nice stranger."

People confuse me, but at least this time it was a pleasant experience. I'm going to use that quarter to do my laundry.