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More Weird People in NY

After a pretty stressful and busy week at work (nobody told me part of my job description was to teach people how to use Excel and Powerpoint!), I was ready to spend a leisure weekend at home.

Friday night we met up with our friend Db and a former client of Tim’s, Gil–who coincidentally also knows our friend Corinne from Seattle for dinner. It was a really nice evening. We went to one of our fave hangouts here, Chickie Pig’s. I don’t know what it is, but every time we go there, it gets better. The pizzas were really good and we just feel like we’re going to somebody’s house. Anyhow, since I had an early run that morning, I retired early and the guys went off on their own. Needless to say a drunk Diesel stumbled in at 2:30 in the morning.

I went for a 8am run with Lily, who I met through Road Runners. She’s super cool, and having grown up here, has all sorts of little tips about the city. After the run, I cleaned the house, in preparation for Kristin and Melissa’s arrival on Tuesday.

I needed to catch up on my book club reading since we are meeting on Monday, so I went to the hippie coffee shop Earth Matters. There I was reading my book, minding my business. There was a girl sitting next to me, and 30 min into my reading, one of her friends showed up. Every once in a while, he’d make a comment and try to engage me in their conversation. I would politely respond and go back to my book. That was effective until he finally found out I was from Brazil. And this is the conversation that ensued:

Guy: So yeah, I go there a lot…for business, ya know?

K: Oh, really, what kind of business?

G: Telephone business. Ya know, borderline illegal.

K (ignoring what he had just said): Ah, and what do you do with telephone companies?

G: We sell minutes for pre-paid cards. You can only do that kind of stuff in Brazil. You know, I’m here, they’re there. If they come after me, I’m here.

K (thinking: why the heck does he keep harping on how he’s a crook?): Yeah…so how does that work with the minutes? How do people get minutes to sell?

G (leaning his head closer, looking around): Yeah, so we STEAL minutes.

The weird thing was that despite all the theater he made about how he was telling me some sort of incriminating secret, he made NO attempt to speak quietly where there were at least 15 people around. I suspect he was quite proud of his shady business and tried to end the conversation right there. Unfortunately at this point, his friend leaves to get some food and it’s obvious he’s not done with it.

G: Yeah, so I have this Brazilian girlfriend.

K: Well, didn’t you say you had a WIFE?

G: Yeah, but she is married to, ya know? My girlfriend.

K: What about your WIFE? Does she know?

G: Oh yeah, she don’t care.

K: But did you tell her about your girlfriend?

G: No.

K: Well, if she doesn’t care, why don’t you tell her?

G: Well, she’d rather not know.

There was some more back and forth, which is not worth mentioning, but the conversation had to end abruptly once he asked me where I lived. I was certainly not going to tell a low-life, gigolo, crook where I lived.


One Response

  1. That is a weird guy. But now I’ve learned something new about you. I thought you were born in Seattle and moved to Brazil for a time. Now I’m really interested in talking to you about the Brazilian movies I’ve seen and if you think they are an accurate portrayal of the country. More specifically, of Rio de Janeiro.

    Also, I wanted to let you know about a friend’s blog from Spain, as I’m sure you can get more from his writing than I can with Google Translator. His name is Pablo and live here in NYC in 2007.


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