Limited coin handling skills
August 4, 2006
There are few things in life as humiliating as scrambling about to retrieve a dropped penny in a store. All of the other patrons stand around in judgement, cruel thoughts playing out through a host of tics and sneers “Yes, crawl pauper, gather your riches and maybe someday you can own a quarter”.
I debated just leaving it there but feared that might be seen as an incredibly sad attempt at portraying my self as a big shot. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it had it taken me less than nine tries to lever up an edge and tear it from the floors grasp. Now I look like some arthritic poverty case with limited coin handling skills. I half expected a staff photographer from “spaz monthly” to leap out and immortalize the moment; no doubt leading to a series of ceramic figurines and collective plates bearing a caricature of my helpless grimace and inept pawing at the ground.
The only other act I have stumbled upon with the same potential for social devalidation is walking through a near invisible spider web. I have stopped whole sidewalks full of passer-bys with, what must have appeared to them, my battle dance to drive away the unseen ghosts and wizards that were plaguing me. Even worse than my crazed flailing is the wheezing snarling noise I emit only under those circumstances, a kind of “Hnaf, hnaf, gahhh, chzuhhheeeeee”. There are entire streets in this city I can no longer walk down; so complete was my past debasement.