Ode to High School (dedicated to my classmates)

HOW TO TP (TOILET PAPER) A YARD

In order to establish my credibility, let me ensure you of my qualifications on this unusual subject matter. I am an expert in the technical aspects of TP-ing trees and shrubbery, and a seasoned veteran of this lost art with a resume boasting of consistent high quality performances. These performances include a wide scope of targets and locations and I’ve achieved success in every mission from my beginner days to those of extreme difficulty and high risk. My credentials speak for themselves; as a youth I’ve succeeded at the TP-ing of my classmates and teachers. I then continued my practice of this tradition and good-natured prank into my adulthood. I have achieved the highest level of honor and respect from my peers, by being awarded with “TP Legend Status” from my leadership efforts in the risky task of TP-ing our cross-town rival college campus and then escaping capture, discipline and known involvement. I have since retired from this illustrious career and would like to pass on my wisdom and knowledge to you. Following is a list of the 10 steps needed in “How To” TP taken directly from my experiences and learning:

1) Choose a target and begin surveillance, scouting and strategy. (Things to pay specific attention to are: Dogs, lighting, location, exit routes, traffic patterns, hoses and sprinkler systems, scattered toys, fences, etc.)
2) Carefully and thoughtfully assemble your team of friends (immediately perform a ceremony in which all members must be “sworn to secrecy” involving any information sharing regarding the execution of your mission.)
3) Purchase the TP (Note: where possible, make your purchase at seldom used or unpopular venues so as to steer clear of the inevitable risks of Murphy’s Law by “bumping into” your would-be targets or their nosey neighbors. Also avoid buying in excess of 24 rolls at a time with all of the members of your team present with you at checkout, snickering and engaging in other acts of suspicious behavior.)
4) Use only regular toilet paper rolls and avoid the temptation to use the public restroom economy super-sized rolls, which weigh more and therefore become incredibly more difficult to throw.
5) In transit to your destination, store the TP in the trunk rather than the backseat, and if traveling on foot, bring only as many rolls of TP that you can carry on your person. (Resist the temptation of using book bags, pillowcases or backpacks as they can be easily left behind, thus adding an unwanted and risky return trip to the scene – which you would most likely be making alone.)
6) Wear dark clothing. Do not apply face painted camouflage or adorn a ski mask – doing so will only increase your likelihood of being apprehended on suspicion in the event of a close call or capture.
7) Allow no more than three minutes per house/school/business (based on the standard of A) three trees of small to moderate size or B) one of large size.)
8) To correctly prepare your roll of TP for tree coverage, simply unroll it about one or two sheets worth and let hang. Next, holding the roll in the palm of your hand, launch by throwing underhanded into the air, aiming for the tallest branch (the more loft the better!) Then watch the TP bounce, fall and rattle like a pinball down the tree, covering it in glorious stark white splendor. Retrieve and repeat.
9) Keep your talking, giggling and celebrating to a minimum during the TP-ing. Hold off until your return to base camp, and when the mission has been successfully accomplished, it is now appropriate and encouraged to unleash your laughter, bragging and the exalting of yourselves for a job well done.
10) At the first sight of interference, whether its a car, a light going on in the house, a dog barking, an inquisitive voice or the police – regardless of the TP coverage at that point, your first priority is getting away. So you must drop everything and run. Leave everything behind and run, run, run!

If you follow these 10 steps, I guarantee that you will get the results you seek in your next TP-ing adventure! Most importantly, you will have had fun and be able to share your stories for a lifetime – and that’s what makes this tradition last from one TP generation to the next. I hope you’ve had an enjoyable learning experience – please look for my next installment of “How To” as I reveal 10 tricks of the trade of defending your yard against would-be TP-ers.

Scary Cowboy Hat Lady, Part 2

I was enjoying yet another peaceful ride home from work when scarycowboyhatlady entered my world again. This time, she was not on the bus where I’d first encountered her. No, she was an unwelcoming sight when I exited the bus at my stop, the Food Lion parking lot. And she was not quietly sitting on the bench either. She was pacing back and forth, waving her arms at passing cars and yelling for them to stop. “Great” I thought – this ought to be good. I also fervently prayed that Rebecca was on her way, and that I would be in the comforts of “white lightning” (our Saturn) any minute. However, this particular day was not the kind of day where Rebecca was out of the office on time. No, this was the type of day where she was saving the world, one crisis at a time. I, on the other hand, was forced to wait with scarycowboyhatlady once again.
I was able to avoid her and “sneak” off the bus and onto the bench opposite the shelter and where she was flagging down cars unsuccessfully. I sat to myself, breathing in bus fumes as it sat idling for possible riders. Once it departed, it was just me, scarycowboyhatlady and my silent fears of another encounter. My acute listening skills were able to piece together scarycowboyhatlady’s own little troubling predicament. She had obviously given up on the ticket sales business and was now only concerned with one thing: getting a light for her cigarette. Each car that unwittingly drove past on their way to pick up some needed grocery items were now being accosted by a scary, crazed African American woman wearing a cowboy hat, jeans and ratty t-shirt with an unlit cigarette dangling out of her mouth. As they drove past she was screaming at them, whether their window was up or down, a garbled, “hey! I need a light! Let me use you car lighter!” By the time she got it all out, her cigarette had fallen to the ground and the terrified drivers were long gone. This was certainly amusing to me – and I snickered at her expense. I knew that she would be coming my way eventually, but I still had to laugh at her ridiculous plight. Sure enough, she spotted me on yet another failed attempt. As she made her way over to me, I noticed something both startling and sad – she was barefoot. She was walking on the asphalt with no shoes or socks on and didn’t seem to even notice. Why on earth was she walking on this terribly uneven, glass-chards abound ground asking for a light to her one cigarette? She obviously had bigger problems. But, hey, who am I to judge? She approached and asked for a light. I again, told her that I didn’t have one and shook my head apologetically. Then the unthinkable happened. She tried to engage in a conversation with me.
“You know that song?” She was humming the tune of an oldies song that I can’t for the life of me recall for I have permanently erased it from my memory so as to not associate any song with scary cowboy hat lady. “Yeah, that’s a good song…” So she’s singing and flagging down cars driving past and then… she started dancing. She began to bop and dance to the tune of her own baritone singing voice. To hold the laughter in was only accomplished by how awkward and unbelievable the situation was. I couldn’t help but think of the many friends I wish were there with me to witness the debacle. So she is just boppin’ away to this tune, and looking back every now and then to see if I was going to join in. I was staring, I won’t lie – I just stared at her and then looked feverishly around for my wife. Scarycowboyhatlady then started to make her way further into the road in hopes to make herself even more seen and heard in her quest for some sweet tobacco release. She failed, time after time as people continued to drive past – some looking straight forward and avoiding her gaze (which was still a freaky gaze might I add) and some doing more of an unbelieving stare or gawk. When Rebecca arrived, I jumped in via Dukes of Hazard and told her to floor it unless she wanted to be attacked for our lighter.
This wasn’t the last I’d see of her – I saw her about a week later up to the same thing – this time though, she was knocking on car windows at the stoplight. As the bus pulled into the stop, she was even tapping the window of a state trooper’s car. I thought that this would surely be the end of it– but no, even this officer of the law avoided her. Rebecca was thoroughly disturbed when she arrived - as we both prayed the light would be green by the time we needed to go. It was the last time I saw her for these last couple months – the legend of scary cowboy hat lady, moving slowly amongst the unsuspecting cars, yelling for a light to her cigarette continues – where she is, remains a mystery. Sing it scary cowboy hat lady – sing it loud and proud – and for the love of God, someone get that woman a tobacco patch.

Scary Cowboy Hat Lady, Part 1

Before I delve into what I now revere as the legend of whom I can only refer to as “scary cowboy hat lady,” a little background as to how I have come to know her as I do. Currently I am working downtown Richmond, Virginia at Virginia Commonwealth University – an urban, mostly commuter university that has approximately 30,000 students enrolled. It is a widely diverse campus located amidst the city of Richmond - and I work in the middle of campus in the Student Commons building. I commute to work by car, bus and foot. My wife drops me off at the bus stop which is about a ten minute ride from our house – then I catch the #73 bus into downtown Richmond, and walk about a mile to my office. My overall morning and afternoon commute is about 45 minutes. The bus fare is $1.25 each way. When I started taking the bus, I bought bus tickets which gave me a discount that amounted to about 1 free round trip ride per week ($2.50). However, a few months ago they (the bus company) decided to phase out the bus ticket discount program, thereby screwing over many a loyal bus commuter (so much for rewarding those of us saving the environment right?) If you had purchased bus tickets before the phase out, then you were allowed to use them until the beginning of November – a good two months after the announcement was made. I had done this, but still had no where near enough tickets to last me until then. I was slightly annoyed and frustrated, but I would make do with the change. And so, we arrive to that fateful late summer day when I first met scary cowboy hat lady.
I was enjoying my ride home on the bus, quietly keeping to myself while reading. At a regular stop, onto the bus comes this mid-fifties African American lady, moving slow and mumbling to herself. She is wearing a white cowboy hat, has an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips and carrying a bag of some kind. She sits four seats in front of me in one of those that face the middle of the bus rather than forward. This allows for anyone sitting behind her to do some good, solid observing of her antics. My initial observation of her was that she had really white and scary looking eyes. The kind of eyes that make you shiver – I mean, I was really repulsed by this woman’s eyes – I don’t know how else to describe it. She was just scary looking. She was jabbering away about something and I noticed that the people across from her were not talking back – not even paying attention to her. Then she fumbled in her bag for a little while, mentioned something to the woman next to her and sat silently for the remainder of the trip, cigarette still dangling on her lips. My only thought was, “please don’t get off at the last stop with me – please no.…”
Sure enough, we get off at the last stop and the scary lady joins me. Just as I’m headed to the bench, she mumbles something audibly in my direction. All I heard was “bus tickets” – and this was enough to turn to see whom she was talking to. She was harassing another woman, and it sounded as though she was trying to sell her some bus tickets. My interest was now slightly piqued. Might this scary lady have something I desired? It was soon thereafter that her freaky eyes gazed upon me – as I was the only one remaining at the stop. She walked closer and kept mumbling, “you wanna buy some bus tickets?” Again, I was interested in the sales pitch, regardless of how shady and unkempt this woman was. If she had the now discontinued bus tickets that I could buy (they no longer sold them at the stores) and thereby save me from paying the regular fare for a few months – hey, I was willing to check into it.
So, she’s extending some tickets – I begin to go for my wallet and ask, “How much are you selling them for?” She pauses and begins to say a dollar a ticket – not much of a bargain, for that is what they are actually worth, but hey, I couldn’t get them anywhere else. For the record, I have never bought anything from a ticket scalper before, so this was new territory for me. So I have my wallet out in front of me, and I actually have some cash! It was meant to be. Just as I see the cash, I look up and see that the tickets she’s holding are not the discounted ticket books I desire – but tickets for disabled and senior citizen bus riders. These are twice the size of the tickets I normally use, so I am slightly embarrassed that I didn’t notice this sooner. I quickly put my wallet back in my pocket and tell her that I’m no longer interested. I head over to the opposite bench and sit down, half laughing to myself that she was trying to scalp senior citizen tickets to me, an obviously non-senior citizen. However, my laughter was brief, for now I knew that this woman had seen that I had money, and that it was only a matter of time before she put two and two together and came asking for some of it. Now, I am not completely opposed to giving money to street beggars and homeless people, but that is an entire different essay altogether, and not a road I want to venture down at this time. I do occasionally feel a heart tug to give some money to those who ask for it, but this was definitely not such an occasion with this woman. My beginning suspicions of her were only being justified the longer the time went on.
So, I began devising my own plan of action if – when – she came a knockin’. My ol’ trusted line – “Sorry, I don’t carry cash” was out, because I now was not only carrying it but she had seen it as I was about to give it to her. I could lie and tell her I needed it for something else, but I already felt guilty enough for almost buying the stupid tickets from her in the first place. Once again, just as I had predicted, it wasn’t three minutes after I had sat down and began planning my response that she dragged her old and creepy self over to me and was mumbling something about needing some money for mumble, mumble, mumble. By this time, I was standing – and she asked once again for some money to help her out. I had no where to turn, no lines prepared, no story to go on – I had be bold. “I’m not giving you any money.” No apology, no nonsense – just to the point and firm. I looked her in the eye to let her know I wasn’t budging – and, after no persuasion attempt, she left me alone. At least, she left me alone for a few more minutes until she returned to my bench area, and proceeded to dig through the garbage can in search of nothing in particular. She was obviously raising the ante so to speak, displaying her “desperation” and rooting through the trash to hopefully invoke a change of heart. I could only scoff – it was pure farce – but nonetheless, I was anxious to get the heck out of there. She then asked me if I had a light for her cigarette. “No, sorry – I don’t smoke. It’s bad for you,” was all I could think of. Maybe if she thought I was going to preach to her about health and the effects of smoking she would grow weary of me and thereby cut our ties. I knew this wasn’t the case, but I had tried anyway. My wife arrived before our interaction went further, but I had the sinking feeling that this wouldn’t be the last of my encounters with scary cowboy hat lady. Indeed it wasn’t for the next encounter was even more awkward and unusual.

To be continued….

Character Observations Introduction

I interact on a regular basis with all kinds of interesting characters, whether just out and about, on the bus, on my walks, at church or on the diverse college campus in which I work. I love observing life – watching, interacting and listening to people be who they are really fascinates and entertains me. I know that this is something that not everyone does, or at least doesn’t do to the extent that I find myself doing. Character based content is not everyone’s cup of tea – but my entertainment tastes definitely fall under character driven comedies like Arrested Development, Curb Your Enthusiasm, The Office, and all the Christopher Guest movies ever made. So this is my version of this kind of character driven entertainment, the sharing of observations of these real life characters that cross my path. Some of them are just too good to be true; I couldn’t make them up if I tried.
My goal is clear: to entertain, enlighten and educate you not only in my interactions and observations with people but also about the diversity that surrounds us all on a regular basis. After all, aren’t we all just real life characters in this production called life? If any of you have ever coined that cliché parallelism in your own daily living, then perhaps you will also enjoy the thoughts of what this writer sees in the people around him.

FYI: I love to write, don’t get me wrong – but the nature of this “hobby” can be really annoying. It is 4:30 a.m, I am out of my warm, relaxing and comfortable bed and in front of this blindingly white computer screen typing this. After waking up from an odd dream in what seems like hours ago, tossing and turning and thinking about these characters I’ve met lately, I finally decided to get up and write it out. Here I was, enjoying the pleasures of sleep in the warm cozy embrace of my amazing Select Comfort bed, when my creative juices suddenly erupted – and began this persistent mind torture until I had no choice but to deal with it all in writing. So, with that said, I present to you my first installment of what I shall simply call “Character Essays” for now. This is dedicated to my “heroes” – the writers and creative personalities I’ve come to know through my constant viewing of their work: Mitch Hurwitz, Larry David, Christopher Guest, Ricky Gervais, Neil Corcoran and my mom. Their genius motivates me to get back to what I love: writing (even if it is at 4:30 in the morning…)