I was on my way back from my usual walk that afternoon reflecting on the current events when I came upon a completely unexpected sight. The street had a slight downhill grade and I was walking a little faster than my usual pace. My thoughts had wondered from the state of the economy to the subject of dinner and the heady choices available - Macdonald’s or Burger King? Chinese or Japanese? Subway or Quizno’s? Taco Bell or Dell Taco? Coke or Pepsi? Tea or Coffee?
Contemplating the differences in gastronomic experiences had my mind preoccupied until I turned the corner and saw a man dressed in a brown matching hood and cover-all slowly traversing on his legs and arms, crawling – southward. It was rather unsettling as I presumed that he had been crawling for the entire length of the very long street – long enough to make his knees bleed. I bent down to offer the man assistance until I realized the man in the costume was actually Rich.
“Rich, what the hell are you doing, man?”, I queried. “Is there a religious holiday today that I am not aware of? Are you performing some sort of penitence to atone for your sins?” Somewhat irritated, he replied. “I know I have committed many sins but atoning for it I am not. I am miserable because I love Nina deeply and I can’t seem to express it to her in the right way. Every time I get a chance to say something, I get nervous and develop the worse case of cottonmouth. It’s so bad I am afraid to open my mouth because it looks like a washer with an entire box of detergent thrown in it, like a high school prank. My love for her is not a prank!”
“I think I know how you feel, but what’s with the two cigarettes on your lips? I asked. Looking annoyed, he replied. “Are you blind, man? Can’t you see? These are not cigarettes; these are tusks! I am a miserable Walrus and I am on my way to the ocean to drown myself.”
All of a sudden there was a screeching sound in my head forcing my mind to stop and process what it had just heard. There were also symphonic voices of angels sustaining a high note and everything around me had crept to slow motion. I had just entered, it seemed, a surreal world only conjured up by the imaginative mind of a troubled child.
And so I tried to console him. “In every woman’s heart, there is a fire”, I said. “You just need to find it”. He looked up and asked, “Do you mean, I have a chance to share my life with her?” Off, course, I replied. Are you sure?, he said. Yeah, I’m certain”, I encouraged him.
Then, with the explosiveness of a sprinter coming out of the starting blocks, he stood up and shouted in elation – “YEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHH!” and with the fluid motion of an NBA guard called from the bench for a last minute substitution, he snaps off his brown cover-all. “I’m getting rid of this brown suit. This is not my color type. It makes me look older”, he exclaims. In one quick flash, he revealed a matching white suit and trouser ensemble ala John Travolta in “Saturday Night Fever”.
From his back pocket he produced a small radio and turned up the volume to reveal the classic Bee Gees disco tune in the ‘70s – “Staying Alive”. He shouted. “I am no longer going to kill myself by drowning. I am “Staying Alive!” lip-synching to the ‘70s anthem and pointing his finger up to the sky and down to his shoes. Speaking over the music, he looked at me and asked, “Did you hear that, man? – For Nina, I am Staying Alive!”
(TO BE CONTINUED)
