A week ago at work, I walked to the printer and passed the table where the cool kids eat big Liberian lunches. The girl seated there looked up and said, "I'm eating."
I stood there for a while, clinging to my printout and wondering if I'd asked her if she was eating. I decided that I definitely had not so I just stared stupidly at her and said, "Yes."
The girl took pity on me and explained herself. “That means, ‘Come join me.’”
WHAT?!
Then today, at 6:29am, I was jogging out of the compound to catch a ride to the airport when a stranger jumped into my path and said, "Morning! I'm having my breakfast." I don’t learn anything anymore so I'd already forgotten the previous week's lesson in code-talking. Luckily, the man added, "Join me?" and held out a Liberian donut. What I told him was, "Thanks but I’m getting on a plane." What I wanted to tell him was, "Bro, it is six in the morning. I'm not even conscious yet. Why are you giving me deep-fried foods..."
Unanticipated sharing leaves me feeling uneasy. Thankfully, the world attempted to right itself on Monday when, while collecting my car from a Mamba Point parking lot, the attendant handed me my keys in painstaking slow-motion and said, "I want bread."
Just like that.
What I wanted to reply was, "M*therf*cker, I've made, like, $11 this year. Please let me get in my car." But then I thought about all the San Francisco sourdough and Lower East Side bagels that dance on two legs in my dreams and said, instead, "Shit, man. So do I.” I finally understood all the uninvited giving and taking. I may leave this place a slightly less awful person yet.
I stood there for a while, clinging to my printout and wondering if I'd asked her if she was eating. I decided that I definitely had not so I just stared stupidly at her and said, "Yes."
The girl took pity on me and explained herself. “That means, ‘Come join me.’”
WHAT?!
Then today, at 6:29am, I was jogging out of the compound to catch a ride to the airport when a stranger jumped into my path and said, "Morning! I'm having my breakfast." I don’t learn anything anymore so I'd already forgotten the previous week's lesson in code-talking. Luckily, the man added, "Join me?" and held out a Liberian donut. What I told him was, "Thanks but I’m getting on a plane." What I wanted to tell him was, "Bro, it is six in the morning. I'm not even conscious yet. Why are you giving me deep-fried foods..."
Unanticipated sharing leaves me feeling uneasy. Thankfully, the world attempted to right itself on Monday when, while collecting my car from a Mamba Point parking lot, the attendant handed me my keys in painstaking slow-motion and said, "I want bread."
Just like that.
What I wanted to reply was, "M*therf*cker, I've made, like, $11 this year. Please let me get in my car." But then I thought about all the San Francisco sourdough and Lower East Side bagels that dance on two legs in my dreams and said, instead, "Shit, man. So do I.” I finally understood all the uninvited giving and taking. I may leave this place a slightly less awful person yet.
3 comments:
bagels dancing= yes
sharing= no
<3
You're worse than I am, Bug.
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