Sep. 17th, 2003
Cumbie's adventure, 9/17/2003
Sep. 17th, 2003 06:44 pmHe wanted to buy a cigar, and and lo, they had one behind the counter. To pay for it, he started pulling coins, including a silver dollar, out of his shoe (which also held his ID), but he was a little short. He turned to me: "You got twenty cents?" "Sorry, man," I said, as I say to most strangers who ask me for money. He seemed confused. "You can't check?"
At this point his companion, a woman of about his age, rescued the both of us, by spinning another coin onto the counter. "What's that?" he said. "I believe you'll find it's a quarter," she said. "You believe I'll find it's a quarter", he echoed, contemplating this turn of events, and this especially is a Ricky-ism, actually. While the counterperson rung up the purchase, the fellow, reassembling his shoe, spoke to me again: "Well, do you need twenty cents?" "No I'm all set," I said, with a smile, and the little salute I give to strangers who slow down to let me cross the street.
Preparing to leave, he began a short litany directed at me, mildly chastising me for my miserliness. Something like: "'Cause, you know, the feeling's mutual. I mean, y'know, you gotta help each other out. Well," he concluded, walking out the door, "you're not from where I am. I can tell."
And so it came to pass that I will feel vaguely poopy about this for the rest of the day. Anyway, I made a mental note that should I someday find myself visiting some part of the USA where everyone talks like this guy, and I will think a ha and know at least a little bit about how I'm expected to act under some circumstances.