I get the Pad Khee
Mao to go please?”
I walked out of the restaurant and decided to take my
time getting back to work. I made my way out onto the street and
took a left past the parking garage and the bus stop next to the
restaurant. I never walked down this way, but like the rest of the
city, the streets were neatly lined with young trees, and cars
zipped by, narrowly missing pedestrians crossing the street. A
crowd of tourists walked straight at me. I was about to get
swallowed in the little sea of foreigners. Unlike the city’s
residents, the foreigners looked terrified as vehicles careened
past them at the corner.
I looked up to see something flipping around in the
air. A flyer? Scrap paper? It hit the ground over my left shoulder;
it was a $20 dollar bill! I stopped immediately and looked behind
me to see from whose unlucky pocket this had fallen. I saw a woman
with a purse and a man with his hands in his pockets. The man was
crossing the street on a diagonal; the women kept walking forward.
Why was everyone walking so fast? Was it just city life? By now two
people had bumped into me since I’d stopped dead in my tracks
mid-sidewalk. I was confused: was it his or was it hers or was it
neither? All I know is that someone in a ten foot radius dropped
twenty bucks on the ground. I turned and walked away leaving the
twenty dollar bill on the ground for some other sweet soul to find.
I looked back to see if anyone had picked it up and saw a man on
his cell phone spot it. He actually went out of his way to walk
around it like it was some steaming pile of dog doo-doo. I laughed
and continued walking.
I came across an old used bookstore called After
Words. I decided to go in because Meryl was always talking about
books and authors. To be honest, I didn’t even really like to read
fiction. Most books were too long, with boring characters and
tedious story-lines. I always lost interest within the first thirty
pages.
A woman wearing a beret greeted me. She was carrying
on an impassioned conversation with the man behind the counter.
Apparently she thought Anna Karenina was way better than A Tale of
Two Cities.
“What’s your favorite book?” the woman turned and
asked me.
“The Great Gatsby,” I said impulsively.
“Really?” she looked at me without smiling.
“Why?”
“Because a) it’s a classic and b) it was the only
book assigned in high school that I actually read—because it was
the shortest. The rest of the books I looked up in SparkNotes.”
The woman rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Can I
help you with something?” she said.
“Yeah, where’s your legal section located?” I
asked.
“You looking for something like Contracts for
Dummies?” she studied me.
“No, more like books for law students,” I
affirmed.
“Aisle six,” she mumbled studying my wardrobe.
I walked over to the “Legal” section and skimmed
through a few case books. The only things I ever read for pleasure
were magazines, Calvin and Hobbs comic books, and majority,
dissenting, and concurring opinions from Supreme Court cases. I
spotted an old man behind the front desk. He looked like a scrawny
version of Santa Claus.
“ Excuse me. How much are these case
books?” He looked up at me, startled, as if he never even saw me
come in. I figured he was writing the next War and Peace behind
that little desk of his, judging by the length of that
beard.
“ Fifteen dollars each,” he
croaked.
“ I’ll give you twenty for both of
these,” I bargained, holding up a First Amendment and Due Process
case book.
“ Meh,” he nodded and waved me over.
I smiled on the inside. I loved it when I got my way.
“ Case books, huh?” he asked
insincerely. “Law student?”
“ No, I was a political science
undergraduate. I guess I just like to read justified arguments,” I
said honestly.
“ I was a law professor for years.
You’re young. Go live your life. Law schools aren’t going
anywhere,” he responded bitterly,
Mao to go please?”
I walked out of the restaurant and decided to take my
time getting back to work. I made my way out onto the street and
took a left past the parking garage and the bus stop next to the
restaurant. I never walked down this way, but like the rest of the
city, the streets were neatly lined with young trees, and cars
zipped by, narrowly missing pedestrians crossing the street. A
crowd of tourists walked straight at me. I was about to get
swallowed in the little sea of foreigners. Unlike the city’s
residents, the foreigners looked terrified as vehicles careened
past them at the corner.
I looked up to see something flipping around in the
air. A flyer? Scrap paper? It hit the ground over my left shoulder;
it was a $20 dollar bill! I stopped immediately and looked behind
me to see from whose unlucky pocket this had fallen. I saw a woman
with a purse and a man with his hands in his pockets. The man was
crossing the street on a diagonal; the women kept walking forward.
Why was everyone walking so fast? Was it just city life? By now two
people had bumped into me since I’d stopped dead in my tracks
mid-sidewalk. I was confused: was it his or was it hers or was it
neither? All I know is that someone in a ten foot radius dropped
twenty bucks on the ground. I turned and walked away leaving the
twenty dollar bill on the ground for some other sweet soul to find.
I looked back to see if anyone had picked it up and saw a man on
his cell phone spot it. He actually went out of his way to walk
around it like it was some steaming pile of dog doo-doo. I laughed
and continued walking.
I came across an old used bookstore called After
Words. I decided to go in because Meryl was always talking about
books and authors. To be honest, I didn’t even really like to read
fiction. Most books were too long, with boring characters and
tedious story-lines. I always lost interest within the first thirty
pages.
A woman wearing a beret greeted me. She was carrying
on an impassioned conversation with the man behind the counter.
Apparently she thought Anna Karenina was way better than A Tale of
Two Cities.
“What’s your favorite book?” the woman turned and
asked me.
“The Great Gatsby,” I said impulsively.
“Really?” she looked at me without smiling.
“Why?”
“Because a) it’s a classic and b) it was the only
book assigned in high school that I actually read—because it was
the shortest. The rest of the books I looked up in SparkNotes.”
The woman rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Can I
help you with something?” she said.
“Yeah, where’s your legal section located?” I
asked.
“You looking for something like Contracts for
Dummies?” she studied me.
“No, more like books for law students,” I
affirmed.
“Aisle six,” she mumbled studying my wardrobe.
I walked over to the “Legal” section and skimmed
through a few case books. The only things I ever read for pleasure
were magazines, Calvin and Hobbs comic books, and majority,
dissenting, and concurring opinions from Supreme Court cases. I
spotted an old man behind the front desk. He looked like a scrawny
version of Santa Claus.
“ Excuse me. How much are these case
books?” He looked up at me, startled, as if he never even saw me
come in. I figured he was writing the next War and Peace behind
that little desk of his, judging by the length of that
beard.
“ Fifteen dollars each,” he
croaked.
“ I’ll give you twenty for both of
these,” I bargained, holding up a First Amendment and Due Process
case book.
“ Meh,” he nodded and waved me over.
I smiled on the inside. I loved it when I got my way.
“ Case books, huh?” he asked
insincerely. “Law student?”
“ No, I was a political science
undergraduate. I guess I just like to read justified arguments,” I
said honestly.
“ I was a law professor for years.
You’re young. Go live your life. Law schools aren’t going
anywhere,” he responded bitterly,
Similar Books
