Every year or so, in random parts of Los Angeles, the same woman in her mid-twenties runs into me. The exchange is predictable down to the dialog. She begins by making a beeline towards me with gums blazing and a mouthful of crowded teeth. My uneasy expression betrays me and she always strikes quickly while I try rolling away. Before I know it I am ambushed by her Clipboard Digest of Modern Suffering (CDOMS). I counter her Shock Charity Attack with my polished Big City Skepticism Sidestep (BCSS). BCSS deviates from Finely-Aged Asshole Reaction (FAAR) in that I don't completely ignore her but I'm also not polite enough to get a rebuttal. In the end I always feel like I just broke up with a quality woman. There’s tenderness from the loss, but I’m sure that she will easily move on.
Hours later, as I'm walking into a petrol station to use its facilities, I spot her at the front of the queue for the cashier. Her retracted gums tell me that she is unaware of my presence but my Big City senses still tingle. She has something in her hand. A colon-ravaging petrol mart sandwich. Great choice. My colon spitefully kicks me in the shin under the table. As I rubberneck my way towards the back of the store, I hear a downpour of loose change hitting the counter. The clatter stops me awkwardly between BBQ Corn Nuts and motor oil. I watch her index finger slide each coin across the counter towards her final tally. I know that movement; It’s how a child or a frugal adult would count coins, but more relevantly, how a frugal adult would count foreign coins. There is a certain amount of purity and humility exhibited in that exercise. And I eat it up like a guilt-stricken walrus tusk-deep in cuddly baby seal remains. I backtrack outside.
My now cantaloupe-sized bladder and I introduce ourselves as she finishes. She flaps on about her annual summer volunteer charity work in the U.S. as a student from Japan. I one-up her easily. I had been a horrible walrus who didn't want to eat baby seals but was really, really hungry -- all of the fucking time. No, I didn't sully her. Instead, I spoke the international language and reached for my wallet. I suggested that as a game, I would donate all of the cash in my possession -- every time she found me. The night lit up with orthodontists around the world cheering in synchronized hysteria.
There is a certain amount of purity and humility that deserves to be encouraged and nurtured. And if one has the means to recognize such excellent form, why the fuck not? :)