First story of the day.
After having spent a totally wonderful day with little Lailah yesterday, I had plans on getting together with BFF Rick and a few other people for dinner and theater show in the evening (that story will be for another post).
We had agreed to meet the the “Old Spaghetti Factory” in downtown MPLS, on Washington. I’ve been there once or twice before, and the restaurant has two paid parking lots on either side of it. I chose the parking lot closer to the front door. I had arrived much earlier than the agreed time, and the parking lot was pretty sparse since it was late Saturday afternoon. There were perhaps ten cars in a lot that probably could hold a hundred or so.
The trend with paid parking lots in downtown MPLS is to get rid of the lot attendant (especially on the weekends), but also to do away with the older style “honor system” parking where you placed your money in an envelop and stuffed that envelope down a slit in a metal box, with you specifying the parking spot you parked in. The lots have also done away with those “vending machines” where you insert your card, and get a receipt to place on your dash.
Point is, I got out of my car, didn’t see a lot attendant, didn’t see the area where you could get these envelops, or any of the vending machine things, etc. So, I’m looking all around, trying to figure where to pay.
And while I’m turning round and round, looking.
A nice looking woman is about twenty – thirty feet away, comes into my peripheral vision and calls out:
“Can I ask you a question?”
Assuming she is in the same situation as I am, trying to find out how to pay, I start walking towards her and say, “of course.”
She also starts walking toward me, and while she’s now about ten feet away, she gives me the most sincerest compliment I’d ever heard from a complete stranger: “My, don’t you look really nice, with the beautiful colored shirt on!”
(i really can’t remember her exact words, but, you could tell she truly meant them, even though, at first, I thought she was just trying to be nice.)
(I was wearing a nice salmon colored polo shirt – it’s an unusual color for me, but I like it.)
I thought the compliment was sort of a strange way to start a conversation with a complete stranger, but I got out of my shell, and I returned the compliment by commenting on what she was wearing (if I remember correctly, she had a hoodie jacket over a dress, but, she was being nice to me and I wanted to be the same to her.)
The next thing she says is:
“I mean you no harm”
“I’m in a bind.”
“I need some help.”
(ah, here it is, she’s not a fellow parking lot parker like myself, she’s just someone who just needs some attention and likes talking to strangers on the downtown streets…)
She tells me:
“I’m from out of town, and my husband is here this week helping to build the U.S.Bank stadium over there…”, pointing to the stadium, which seems to be about five feet away since it’s so huge and is overlooking us, but is actually a few blocks away.
(“uh, ok”)
“My husband went to work this morning and took my wallet by accident. I’ve taken my two boys to the Popeye’s chicken place across the street” (and, turns around to point to it), “and I don’t have the $11.56 to pay for their dinner.”
The way she told me this, you could just tell, she was telling the truth, and was at her wit’s end, not knowing what to do.
I say to myself: “Crap, I want to help but I don’t carry cash on me these days.”
But.
I then remembered something.
I said to her, “follow me, I need to go to my car.”
(while looking for the vending machine to pay for the parking, I was now about twenty feet from my car.)
About a month or two ago, I had taken a box out of my closet of my mom’s – in it, was her collection of her old coins (which is, in of itself, it’s own separate story), and, she had collected a bunch of “new” Susan B. Anthony” dollar coins. I had taken them from their box, and put them in my car’s console, intending on taking them to a bank – since I wasn’t particularly sure if the young whippersnappers at the local MickeyD’s would believe it wasn’t “play” money, if I were to buy a BigMac with them.
But I’d never got round to going to the bank, and they’ve been siting there for the last couple of months.
Until today.
When this unfortunate person in a strange city, needed some help.
I got to my car, told her, I didn’t have any cash, but I had some coins that I could give her.
I had already opened my car door and was reaching into the console – so I couldn’t see her reaction – I mean, I’m a complete stranger (a physically big guy), asking her to come over to my car, and, I was reaching into my car.
So, I don’t know if she was a bit scared or not, or if she was overjoyed just to get a “few coins” to help her.
The majority of the coins were easy to get out of the console, it was the final two or three that took some digging – like I said, I was leaning into my car, with my big butt sticking out.
I finally got the last few coins and turned my self around to face her.
“Hold out your hands”, I said.
I told her (since these S.B.A. coins are gold in color and not the usual coins people see), “these are Susan Anthony Dollar coins”
“and”
.
.
.
“It just so happens that I have exactly twelve of them.”
This woman’s face lit up.
You could tell, it was such a relief for her.
She thanked me.
And then asked if she could hug me.
“Of course you can.”
So, we hugged each other for a few seconds.
I asked her, where are you from?
“Kansas”, she said, “can you tell?”
“No, I was just curious”, I said.
I truly don’t remember what happened next.
I think I told her “good luck to you and your family.”
Or, I hope I did.
And.
We each went our separate ways.
(not that it matters to me, but yes, she was a person of color. And, I only mention this, because, for me, when a person needs help, you don’t see what color eyes they have, or what color hair they have, or even what color of skin, you just see their need, and you help, if you can.)
A few times now, in the past year or so, I’ve run into people needing help, and, I feel fortunate that I was able to help out.
I’ll probably never see this person again, much like the person at the grocery store the last time this happened.
Doesn’t matter.
I’m just glad I was the person that was placed in that particular spot at that particular time, by some known or unknown force, to help them.
Pay.
It.
Forward.
Have a good day everyone (a few more “Brian” stories to come much later on today.)
P.s., FYI, paying for parking in downtown MLPS, now requires you to download an app, and you pay via that app with your debit/credit card.
