Tales to be told

OMG! I have sooooooo much to explain!! To do so, a series of disjointed anecdotes will recount the important events of the past several days…

Ok, Portugal. Not only was the weather amazing, but the universe also graciously gave me the opportunity to DENY some kid’s game. Yeahhhh it was just the kind of vacation I needed. This kid—though, I shouldn’t say “kid” since he was 26—was wuuuurkinnnn it hard! Which gave me all the more satisfaction shutting that down!! I was like, Not today, son!

Back in Paris, I saw the most incredible visual polarity on Rue Notre Dame des Champs—also known as my hood, holla! While walking to my favorite hot spot (the discount grocery store), I heard an unfamiliar buzzing noise that became more and more thunderous with each step. Veiled in a cold sweat, I searched feverishly for the echoing sound in every shadowy crevice. Finally, my eyes caught sight of swerving orange blob off in the distance. As the shape skidded closer, the reality of this sight began to focus. The vibrating hum came from an elderly, half-melted woman cruising at top speed in her electric wheelchair. Precariously navigating the road, she harshly puffed on a cigarette with one gnarled hand and controlled the wheelchair with the other. A fluorescent orange flag attached to the back of her chair thrashed at full mast while she hacked up a previous life in between her slow exhalations of nicotine. I stopped my stride to acknowledge the rarity of such a sight. I almost pulled out my camera but then I thought, “Nah I don’t want to be one of those people…”

It’s official. I have a new favorite neighborhood hobo!!!! Finally. My previous fave just couldn’t keep up with the competition. This hobo is spectacular, he shames all the other bums. KC abruptly pointed him out to me while walking home from class the other day. He must of found enough change on the streets because he was sitting at a café, making everyone around him uneasy. Prolonging his chance to blend in with the rest of society, he smoked a cigarette with great leisure calling attention to the drunken arrogance of his cross-legged posture. His lanky build prompted his knobby limbs to stick out into the street, wherein I noticed that one of his dirty socks didn't have a slipper covering it like the other. But this didn’t prohibit him from enjoying his wine-induced hazy life. No, he mumbled a few words in a caroling voice and elegantly waved to passersby while swaying back and forth in his chair. Before we passed him, he let out a jolly, delirious laugh and flicked his cigarette in such a grandiose manner. He was the only one in on the joke but he continued on. Yeah, he’s a classy one.