I was walking to work this afternoon and right in front of my building, on a crowded Manhattan street (29th and Park Avenue), I saw a normal, well-dressed man pissing into his truck's gas tank.
I turned the corner and there were several construction vehicles parked along the street and two new model pickups. Against a large white pickup leaned three men, dressed in business-casual attire. One of the men held a beer in one hand and had his crotch pressed into the open gas tank area.
I did a double-take and walked to my building. I stood in front of the building, finishing my cigarette and watched to see if the men left. I figured that perhaps it was somebody else's truck. Somebody they didn't like.
But the pissing man zipped up, took out his keys and opened the driver's side door and tossed his bottle in. Then they sat against the truck and talked for a bit. I went inside to work and started my day.
I like seeing weird things like that.
One day I was entering the subway and passed a man in a neatly-pressed, expensive business suit. His hair was neatly combed, he was freshly shaven and looked like any other Wall Street businessman. Except that he was not wearing a shirt. Or socks. Just a fine suit. With no shirt. And this was in December!
I saw another guy on the subway with the most ridiculous, poorly drawn tattoo of Garfield the cat holding a smoking bazooka. I could only imagine that he had gotten the tattoo in junior high school after drawing that bad-ass picture of Garfield in study hall.
"Dudes, check out this drawing of Garfield. With a bazooka."
"Aw man, you should totally get that as a tatoo. It's sweet!"
"I will! Woo-hoo!"
15 years later he sits on the subway, trying in vain to pretend it's still a really cool tat. He tries to look menacing so no one will talk to him about it.
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8 comments:
I'm so glad to find you during a blogsurf. I have put your URL on my blog and hope you will have many new guests. Please come and visit me if you get a chance.
I've read some of your archives, will be checking back later. Your eye for the ludicrous and poetic is refreshing, as is your writing.
I hope to get to know you, electronically, better.
i basically echo what the mighty innana said, she is so wise! there, is that enuff sucking up now?
During WWII, in Denmark, I've been told guys would piss into gas tanks of Germans' cars (or other motor vehicles) to ruin the cars in some way. I'm not mechanical, so I never actually knew whether this was true. Apparently putting sugar in the gas tank worked just as well. Women thought this was unfair, because they had to use up their sugar rations whereas the guys only had to take a leak. I'm not sure if this story is actually true, but one of my great-aunts insisted that she knew my great-Uncle Jurgen was serious about her when he started giving her his sugar ration to spend on disabling cars . . . . Why would piss or sugar (in a gas tank) disable a car? And how much would it take?
Perhaps they were committing an indecent act with their cars?
Wow, you've become quite popular, Dav! Way to go!
Love,
Liz
My mother worked for the Welfare department for 25 years. Her job was to visit the homes of people who had applied for assistance and to confirm the number of people living in each home, etc.
She saw some amazing things. I wish she would blog these strange stories but she has yet to learn to check her email.
We live 14 hours apart or I would gladly blog them for her. There is nothing more life affirming to me than more evidence that truth is most often stranger than fiction.
Geez, how'd I miss that?
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