Asleep in the Park

I opened my eyes and moaned groggily, the pain in my lower back was excruciating. I was lucky to have gotten any sleep at all on such an uncomfortable bedding setup. However, I suppose I was lucky to still be alive. I have heard that walking through the dark areas of Central Park at night was basically suicide, but I had never heard of anyone sleeping in the dark areas. Most bums just slept on the park benches, underneath the lights, however, I am not really a bum and therefore was shunned away from the “good” sleeping areas.

“Wutthafukuthikyahdooin?” yelled one particularly pissed of, and incredibly drunk, bum. I decided that this would be a good time to move in order to avoid further conflict. After trying a couple of other “reserved” benches, I gave up and found a patch of moss in an unlit area. I awoke twice in the night to voices not far from where I was resting, it sounded almost like an outdoor brothel, but hey, that kind of thing doesn’t happen in America, who am I kidding?

So, at this point, you are probably wondering why I was forced to stay in Central Park. I wish that I could say that it wasn’t important and continue on with my day, However, it is important because I jump at every chance to exploit my roommate (and unfortunately friend) Ross’s stupidity.

It all began the morning before, when Ross announced he would be taking a personal vacation to Pittsburgh.

“Dude, Pittsburgh?” I said, upon hearing the news. “Who vacations to Pittsburgh? I heard it’s gross”

“Well, I just wouldn’t be able to live with myself on my deathbed (yeah, he said that) if I knew that I had never been to Pittsburgh”. I took a minute to gawk at the idiocy of his statement.

“There isn’t even anything there. It’s just a bunch of steel mills.”

“Actually” he said, cutting me off. “It is no longer the steel capital of the world. It is now the healthcare capital.” There was a moment of silence while I wondered why he knew that.

“They’re probably the healthcare capital because they have to treat all of the people that got sick from the steel mills.”

“Well you can think what you want, but I’m going” he said, crossing his arms and storming into his room to pack.

“Whatever.” I called into his room. “I have to go to work. Just leave the door unlocked okay? I’m working late and you have the only key.”

“Okay!” He yelled back

I walked out of our apartment and down the stairs. I didn’t like taking the elevator because it smelled like urine and Keystone Light, which I have come to find out are very similar beverages anyway.

After we had both lost our jobs in the city and lost our apartment weeks later in Brooklyn, we were forced to become part of the Greater New York Housing Program. We were put into these projects in Bayonne, just across the river from Staten Island on the Jersey side. It is easily way more ghetto in Bayonne than any part of New York City. It seems as though the entire population of the town works on the docks, except for that incredibly small percentage of the population that own the docks and write my paycheck.

With any luck at all, I would be getting a new job at the docks. My current one was to move cargo from tractor trailer trucks into the gigantic shipping crates, and vice-versa. However, it was the lowest paying job on the docks and everyone from my building worked there doing the same thing, therefore I was the only one who spoke fluent English. But the new job that I would be getting soon was down the road at the cruise ship port, moving luggage on and off the ship to the passengers’ rooms. This paid five dollars more per hour, which would be enough to get us out of the projects and into a small apartment somewhere nearby. Of course, that was assuming Ross could hold onto his job as a custodian at Wagner College on Staten Island.

I worked hard that day, and even found out that I would be getting the promotion to work at the cruise ship port (the same person owned and managed both docks). However, when I got home, I walked into the building and found that the door was locked. I’m sure that by this point you have figured out why I slept outside. I tried sleeping inside, but a policewoman woke me up and didn’t believe that I truly lived there, so she followed me out and told me not to come back in. I didn’t know where to go, except into the city to find something to do, so I hopped on the bus, then took a ferry, then got on a train and headed into Times Square to find something to blow time.

Well, just because there are lights on at night doesn’t necessarily mean that things are actually open. I was pissed to find this out, so I decided that I would spend a night with the bums. That’s where I ended up starting the story.

I peeled myself out of the mossy patch I had been sleeping on, and took a deep breath of fresh New York air, and meandered back to Battery park to catch the ferry. Having no idea when Ross would be home, I wasn’t even sure if I should bother going home to shower before work. Mt cell phone rang while I was walking.

“Hey Calvin, It’s Ross” the idiotic voice on the other line said, “Just thought I should let you know that I left the key under the doormat for you”. I stopped quick, and nearly got myself run over by the pregnant lady walking behind me. I could almost feel the vein in my forehead about to burst and shower everyone in Manhattan with blood.

“Thank you, Ross.” I said through clenched teeth. “I appreciate you informing me.”

“You don’t sound so good” He answered. “Maybe you should go back to sleep, don’t go to work today.”

I closed my phone and began my long trip back “home”. Sometimes, it simply doesn’t pay to roll out of the mossy patch.