QuirkeyBlogEst. 2005

On the eve of Rosh Hashanah (about two weeks ago), Kat and I were walking to my parent’s apartment for dinner. About two blocks before we got there, we were stopped by a tall man with a baseball hat, and headphones around his neck. I’m very used to getting stopped in my neighborhood. My Dad calls it ‘having a sign on your back’, meaning for some reason, he gets stopped everywhere and asked for directions. I have definitely inherited this sign on my back. Most times it just asking how to get to the subway entrance, or to Grimaldi’s under the bridge.

That night was different though. The man who stopped us looked more distraught then the average person who is a little turned around. “Can I trouble you for a second?” he asked. He spoke with a very refined manner. He then proceeded to dive into one of the most fantastical stories I’ve ever heard:

“You see, well, I just moved here from California, from LA, three days ago . . . and I was driving with my mother to my new Apartment, you see, I live right around here – on Henry St. – and she was driving on Tillary St. . . and she had a stroke and I couldn’t take control of the wheel and she went up on the curb and hit two people – it was awful . . . and then the Cops came and one of them – I have his badge number right here [pointing to a piece of paper] – Patruglio – he was being very mean to me. I understood the situation, but he was yelling at me and then – then – he called me . . . a ni***r . . . I was so upset . . . my mother was taken to the hospital . . . and she’s in a coma . . . and I talked to my friends at the news, you see I work for NBC Channel 4, I work sound on the Late Show, and they came down and tried to interview the cop, but he refused and then they found out that he’s been in trouble for a while for beating up kids from the college – you know by the St. George Hotel – you see I live right across the street at 75 Henry – and he calls these kids fags and beats them up – it’s awful. So they are going to talk about it on tonight’s news at 11 and get this bastard cop.”

And then came the pitch. He needed 12$ to get his car out of the towing company or his mom out of the hospital. He introduced himself, but to me he will always be Henry Gale. In the confusion and just by sheer stupidity I gave him the money. I was in a generous mood – it was the New Year, after all – and that was a hell of a story.

If you’re out there Henry Gale – I want my money back. Or at least those Prince tickets you promised me.

Posted October 12th, 2006 in Life, NYC
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