Monday, May 24, 2004
"Wanna try it?"
This is asked of me nearly every Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of every week. As long as it's a nice day, when I step out on the street, I'm sure to encounter Dan, and Dan always asks me, "Wanna try it?"
Dan's an interesting guy. He rides his bike around, because he's not allowed to drive a car. He works at a pizza parlor on Thursdays and Fridays, which is why I never see him those days. But as long as it's nice, I'm sure to find Dan hanging out on the park bench outside my office, smiling a big, goofy smile underneath a Fu-Manchu moustache. Generally speaking, he'll be there for a couple hours in the afternoon, but occasionally he'll be there in the morning as well. I go outside for a smoke, and there he'll be, sitting down, ready to ask, "Wanna try it?"
I usually politely decline, happy with the state of things in my life at the moment, and really not needing anything else. Just my smoke and my coffee. So we sit and talk. We don't have a whole lot in common. I like baseball, and thinking. Dan likes dirt track racing. Doesn't matter what object they are racing - car, bike or ATV - so long as it's dirt, Dan is happy.
Now, I want to keep Dan happy, so I try to discuss the races with him. He almost always has an air-brushed t-shirt on depicting some race he witnessed. Occasionally he'll have a signature on it from some racer I've never heard of, and I'll ask him about the racer. "Oh, he's a good racer," and a big smile are about all I ever get. That's the thing that gets me about Dan. He sits and talks to you for a long time, but you never get much substance.
Then, of course, there's the other big topic of discussion for us, which always begins with the same question from Dan, unless I feel like being a smart---guy that day. "What kinda pants you wearing?" The conversation on my end is always more exciting. I have about 5 different pairs of pants that I wear regularly to work. Some are Express; others Kenneth Cole. Occasionally I'll pull out Gap pants. That's the exciting thing - with me you never know what you might get next. Dan, however, owns 28 pair of Dockers. This so that he can go from January to March without doing the laundry. (Or, I suppose, if he's like most males in their mid-twenties, that means an entire year without washing pants).
The fun thing about Dan is the fact that 5 minutes after you've told him what kind of pants you're wearing, he'll ask you again. Maybe he just wants to be sure. Most likely, it's because he's mentally retarded. But I like to think maybe Dan is a secret agent, watching us all for inconsistency.
It's a perfect cover. Come off to everyone that you're retarded, and everyone will dismiss you. They'll talk to you, maybe tell you key facts. And if you always ask the same question, maybe you can catch them in a lie. And someone who will lie to you about what pants they're wearing could be cooking the books or cheating on their wife. If someone lies about their pants, hell, they'll lie about anything.
I like to think of myself as an honest guy. This is a thing going out of style, it seems. Dan knows (or maybe he doesn't) that I will never lie about my pants.
Nor am I guy, who, when asked, "Wanna try it?" will say yes. Granted, he's asking if I want to sit on a 'super-fan' seat cushion (to be used on the hard seats at sporting events), but I won't let any secret agent get the best of me.
Life is usually boring. Imagination can get you through many of these days. Kurvosity gets me through the rest...
This is asked of me nearly every Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of every week. As long as it's a nice day, when I step out on the street, I'm sure to encounter Dan, and Dan always asks me, "Wanna try it?"
Dan's an interesting guy. He rides his bike around, because he's not allowed to drive a car. He works at a pizza parlor on Thursdays and Fridays, which is why I never see him those days. But as long as it's nice, I'm sure to find Dan hanging out on the park bench outside my office, smiling a big, goofy smile underneath a Fu-Manchu moustache. Generally speaking, he'll be there for a couple hours in the afternoon, but occasionally he'll be there in the morning as well. I go outside for a smoke, and there he'll be, sitting down, ready to ask, "Wanna try it?"
I usually politely decline, happy with the state of things in my life at the moment, and really not needing anything else. Just my smoke and my coffee. So we sit and talk. We don't have a whole lot in common. I like baseball, and thinking. Dan likes dirt track racing. Doesn't matter what object they are racing - car, bike or ATV - so long as it's dirt, Dan is happy.
Now, I want to keep Dan happy, so I try to discuss the races with him. He almost always has an air-brushed t-shirt on depicting some race he witnessed. Occasionally he'll have a signature on it from some racer I've never heard of, and I'll ask him about the racer. "Oh, he's a good racer," and a big smile are about all I ever get. That's the thing that gets me about Dan. He sits and talks to you for a long time, but you never get much substance.
Then, of course, there's the other big topic of discussion for us, which always begins with the same question from Dan, unless I feel like being a smart---guy that day. "What kinda pants you wearing?" The conversation on my end is always more exciting. I have about 5 different pairs of pants that I wear regularly to work. Some are Express; others Kenneth Cole. Occasionally I'll pull out Gap pants. That's the exciting thing - with me you never know what you might get next. Dan, however, owns 28 pair of Dockers. This so that he can go from January to March without doing the laundry. (Or, I suppose, if he's like most males in their mid-twenties, that means an entire year without washing pants).
The fun thing about Dan is the fact that 5 minutes after you've told him what kind of pants you're wearing, he'll ask you again. Maybe he just wants to be sure. Most likely, it's because he's mentally retarded. But I like to think maybe Dan is a secret agent, watching us all for inconsistency.
It's a perfect cover. Come off to everyone that you're retarded, and everyone will dismiss you. They'll talk to you, maybe tell you key facts. And if you always ask the same question, maybe you can catch them in a lie. And someone who will lie to you about what pants they're wearing could be cooking the books or cheating on their wife. If someone lies about their pants, hell, they'll lie about anything.
I like to think of myself as an honest guy. This is a thing going out of style, it seems. Dan knows (or maybe he doesn't) that I will never lie about my pants.
Nor am I guy, who, when asked, "Wanna try it?" will say yes. Granted, he's asking if I want to sit on a 'super-fan' seat cushion (to be used on the hard seats at sporting events), but I won't let any secret agent get the best of me.
Life is usually boring. Imagination can get you through many of these days. Kurvosity gets me through the rest...
