I was walking to the store, just as I do everyday during my lunch break. Walking over the bridge, my worst dreams were realized. The Down Syndrome Club was back. I see them about twice a week, always on my way to the store. They block the entrance. They shout at me. They stare at me. They crowd around me. They intimidate me. Sometimes numbering in the upper teens. A small gang, avoiding detection by operating during daylight hours and loitering near the station exit - in case they need to make a quick getaway. They pretend to sell baked goods, probably as a fund raiser for a new van or something, but only God knows what they are really up to. Money laundering, drug smuggling? I have no idea. But aware that getting into legal troubles could mean my exodus, I usually bury my chin into my chest, walk past them without making any eye contact, and buy my snacks at the small corporation about 10 feet behind them. But today was different. I am not exactly sure why. Maybe there were more. Maybe they were shouting louder. Maybe I made accidental eye contact. I don't remember. But I do know that I somehow managed to end up standing in front of their table pointing at different goods. I had crossed the line. There was no turning back. It didn't matter if the cookies were way overpriced or that they appeared to be have been taken from a larger bag of cookies and repackaged. It didn't matter that the comfort and safety of the store was just a few steps away. Was I funding some Middle Eastern terrorist group? It didn't matter. I pointed to a bag, gave them some money, and then left. They had my money, I walked away with some cookies and a new outlook on life. Everything was going to be OK. As I walked away the entire group erupted into what appeared to be a non-planned, unrehearsed, yet synchronized dance and cheer. What were they saying? I don't know. Did they finally get enough money to buy some remote activated mines? Were they laughing at the fact that in about 15 minutes the cookies would be causing my vital organs to shutdown? Or did they just make their first sale in two weeks? I don't know. Either way, they seemed to be happy (and my organs seem to be alright - at least normal).
Well, if you're wondering, the cookies tasted like sugarless chocolate cookies. They were either left out in the open air for too long or they were 3 weeks old. Either way, I ate them all and was pleased to find a piece of paper inside the bag with a drawing of what appears to be a fly sitting on a small banana next to some flowers - or a sailboat sailing by some large flowers. You be the judge. So in conclusion, maybe people with Down Syndrome are not always scheming afterall.
1 comment:
I asked my roommate to translate your little photo. She said it says, "High quality, Low price!!" and "Children's clothes, convenience goods, and shoes, etc."
We both analyzed the drawing. I thought it kind of looked like a butterfly. She said it looks like a grasshopper or this famous animation hero named Kamen Rider. Kamen means mask. Apparently this hero wears an insect mask and rides around on bikes or other mobile objects. Perhaps in this photo the Kamen Rider is riding on a banana boat. Who knows...It's a mystery. Only the artist is aware of the true interpretation.
PS...Kudos for buying cookies from the Yao Crew of special needs.
Post a Comment