Blame Canada

Every now and then, I like to update everyone on the ever expanding list of reasons why I’m a bad person.  The most recent entry occurred a few days ago when I was riding home on the 7.  A man got on the train, and wasted no time in asking for our undivided attention.  He was, of course, a homeless person, and of course he was asking for money.  What made him remarkable was that part of his sales pitch revolved around his medical troubles, including a set of metal rods that had been installed in his body so that he could stand up straight.  In case any of us mistook this line for nothing more than a good hook, he pulled up his shirt and produced the the subcutaneous rods in question.

Now to be fair, my first thought was “Man, that’s horrible.  I should really give this guy some money.”  Unfortunately, that thought was quickly followed by, “Oh, hey!  I can finally get rid of that Canadian quarter in my pocket!”

I like to think that maybe he dreams of visiting Canada one day, and that I’ve helped him take the first step on his journey.  But the likelihood that the only thing standing between him and an international jaunt was foreign toll fare seems slim.

-TC