To Danny
I followed my usual patter of walking to Def Jam, first exiting Grand Central, walking West along 42nd then taking a right uptown on Broadway through Times Square and going back west to 8th ave somewhere around 46th or 47th street. I purposely stick to the same route because I often see the same people over and over again.
One person I’ve seen before is a guy by the name of Danny. He’s one of the many people soliciting naïve tourists in Time Square. Danny preys on people like me, people that are too nice and kind hearted to give a respectful person the cold soldier.
I was walking my normal route when I saw Danny, positioned just as he was when I first saw him a few weeks ago. He dressed sort of strange, not sure if it was required by his "work", or if it was just his style, but he wore glasses, was clean shaven and had on a flashy sort of preppy get up.
It was raining and I held out my umbrella to get Danny’s attention.
“You remember me” Danny gave me that look to say, “uhhh, no”
“You wanted me to do your survey, but I didn’t have time”
“Oh yeah, oh yeah, what’s your name again?”
I told Danny my name, “what’s your name man?”
“Ferarri” we laughed.
A few weeks ago Danny tried to get me to take a personality survey.
“Would you like to take the survey now”
“I’m actually running late again, I have to meet a girl” I explained to Danny that I was a photographer and was meeting up with a perspective model for a photoshoot.
“I’d still like to take the survey though”
I made several key mistakes, the first was talking to Danny in the first place. My parents of course, always told me “not to talk to strangers” and for good reason, especially in NYC. The second mistake was telling Danny my name. Not my government, but the name that people refer to me by. My last mistake, giving the kid MY CELL #.
“Here’s a card man” Danny surreptitiously folds up a 4x6 post card looking thing and sticks it in my hand. He continues to talk while I glance at my watch to see that I’m running about 10 minutes late for my meeting.
“I gotta go man, I’m running late”
“Mr. Late, always running late…I’ll call you tomorrow, you gunna be around?”
“ I say yes, but mean no”
As I turn the corner, I take out the post card that Danny gave me. On one side is a strange advertisement for a “Modern Science” 15 minute short film. On the other is a map with a big DOT labeling “Church of Scientology of New York”. I was CONNED! There was no god damn survey. Danny was recruiting me to be a fucking Scientologist. I felt betrayed. I walk towards 8th ave and see the Church of Scientology building that Danny was recruiting for.
Hopefully he doesn’t call, but if I see him again, I’m going to play along with his little games.
pop/ul/ar/GURU
Sent Via Blackberry By AT&T
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