2006mar01. Got hit with one of those storytellin’ panhandlers today in an Emeryville parking lot.
“Got any jumper cables?”
“Yeah, I think so ... ” [FX: opening vehicle door, rummaging around for jumper cables]
”This is great, you know I’ve been trying to get someone for the past half-hour and no one has offered ... where are you from?”
“Berkeley.”
”Yeah, no one from Emeryville has stopped I’m going to [unintelligible (at this point his patter has stepped up and I’m not catching bits and pieces of it, that’s the problem with the memorized oft-quoted spiel)] blah blah God blah blah (something about contacting God to thank me for my kindness or God must have sent me etc, repeated twice) how old are you, 27?”
Always shoot low, automatic compliment.
“ ... got six kids in the Expedition all in wheelchairs (seriously, he said this; there’s no Expedition anywhere) blah blah hospital down the street wait, what size engine do you have? That’s not going to work (of course it isn’t), don’t want to blow your engine I tried my ATM card and it didn’t work and blah blah my pager (here at this point he quickly flashes what appears to be an ATM card and a pager [a pager??? do people still use those?]) lend me (some weird amount, like $3.16).”
At this point I smiled the smile of someone who’s heard many stories like this before and he immediately rolled off to another couple comin’ down the pike. Seven wheelchairs, and one of them has a bomb strapped to it.