The Musings of

Something full of magic, religion, bullsh*t.

Monday, September 19, 2005

He tells people he's named after a gun, but I know he's named after a famous 19th century ballet dancer.

I'm sitting in the bar on Saturday after catching Son Volt (awesome show) when this young guy comes walking in. The waitress asks him for his ID and he states that he just wants food. The waitress tells him that the grill's closed, and he says, "But I paid $10 to eat!"

It turns out that when the guy was walking into the bar, some random guy outside asked him for his ID and charged him a cover of $10. And he fell for it. Call it a complete absence of compassion, but it's difficult to feel sorry for stupid people.

Any time you go into a bar area you should be wary that scams abound. Last week some black guy in gangster gear followed three, white, college frat boy types into the bar and the crowded back room. I notice the incongruity, and apparently so did the waitress. When she took his order, he told her to put it on the other guys' tab. The waitress asked the other guys, and they had no idea who he was. Realizing the gig was up, 50 Cent beat a quick retreat.

I mentioned the fake cover fee situation to a friend who came in later, and it got us to talking about scams. He says there's a guy who tries to charge parking fees to people who pull up to city meters. I told him that I once had a bum try to sell me a food processor late one night in front of a bar. My friend, however, trumped my story. He said that he was walking to work at a local bar, when a bum in a wheelchair rolled up, reached into his knapsack, pulled out a package of hot dogs, and tried to sell them to my friend for $.50.

The funniest story I heard was from a bartender friend of mine who had a panhandler try to sell him a flashlight. My friend took the flashlight, looked it over, and put it in his pocket. When the bum asked for $5, my friend replied, "Nah, I think I'll keep it for free. If you have a problem, why don't you find a cop."

Lately, the panhandlers in my neck of the woods have been using the "My children were in New Orleans" story. It's good to see the poor aren't afraid to profit off the tragedies of others any more than the rich.

I guess that as long as the stupid exist there will always be those willing to separate them from their money.
Centinel 12:36 PM #


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