People of Boston: Part 7

Before I recount some of the situations I encountered today, I should admit that I forgot something that happened a couple weeks ago. While working I attempted to grab the attention of a women riding her bike in the street in Jamaica Plain. She looked at me for a maximum of 3 seconds before turning her head back forward. Just as she did so, a woman sitting in the passenger’s side of a car opened her door and the bicyclist collided with the door head on. Were I someone that found potential injury humorous, I would have been teary-eyed with laughter. But instead I just kept on doin’ ma jerb, so to speak.

Anyhow, fast forward to today (Wednesday). I met a couple people who were rather cray-cray (from the English “crazy”, from “craze” meaning “diseased” or “sickly”). I met a guy who would always change the subject back to soccer. He spoke very quickly and quietly, almost completely in nouns, referring to “Spain, Italy, Brazil, good chance, United States, world cup, you, good forward, yeah good midfield, goalie?.” Then he randomly told me I have nice eyes and asked me what shade of blue they are. I wanted to keep talking to him for purely entertainment purposes, but I had to disengage and move on.

A couple hours later I met a 60-ish year old woman who spoke as though she was sane, telling me that “this isn’t the country I grew up in.” I asked her to explain, since I was curious, but her complaints didn’t add up. After 5 minutes I still couldn’t pinpoint a single coherent criticism. Something about a man in Connecticut who had committed embezzlement, and not being able to talk to a lawyer about it. She then talked about a place (I still don’t know what she was referring to) where men (I think she meant police?) beat people with batons. Then she complained that things have gotten so bad in America that she can’t even call her family. I told her that I didn’t know the US government had shut down all telecommunications between its citizens. She advised me to “talk to the right people.” She then walked away, still furious at whatever it was that was making her mad.

I also met an Armenian guy around 19 years old, whose family moved from Lebanon to the U.S. in 2007. I asked why. “Because it’s America!” Typical answer. He mentioned that they intend to move back to Lebanon at some point, but that it’s dangerous at the moment because of all the chaos in the area. I mentioned that I sympathized with the Syrian people and government, and he told me that is was nice to finally meet an American who favored Assad over the foreign-backed terrorists rebels. He mentioned a recent attack by the “rebels,” in which they bombed a bus carrying civilians simply because the people it carried were Christians. I wanted to talk to him more, but of course I soon had to let him go as well.

I met a guy named Steven from Dallas who told me that Jesus was the answer to all of the world’s problems. He was a nice guy.

And as the sun rolled behind the skyscrapers of Copley square, Wednesday drew to a close…


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