Today seemed to be the day of saying: enough is enough. Let's dispense with the kid leather... Get down to some nogahyde.

At some point during the weekend that I packed up my apartment in San Francisco, I was sitting on the porchhaving a smoke when a neigbhour approached me from across the street. It was pretty late, like around 11:30.
The guy was somene I saw around and exchanged pleasantries with, usually in Portuguese - to the best of my ability: Brazilian he was and I seemed to remember his name was Favio. He was friends with another Brazilian I knew who worked at Serrano's Pizzeria. Local color.
He came walking up with a big smile, and politely asked if he was disturbing me. He had a favor to ask - and it was to be a one time favor - and he hated to ask. He hated to bother me, he emphasized, with something so stupid.
I nodded my head slowly, trying to make something of his elaborate preamble. Just the mere fact that Favio had approached me so intently at 11:30 had me scrutinizing him somewhat. Disturbing a relatively unfamilar neigbhour at such a late hour, with an elaborate, convoluted story - seemed upon reflection to be outside the realm of acceptable behaviour. Night is the land of shadows, and it's pretty uncool to roll up on someone you don't know- and not at least be out with whatever it is they need - which better be pretty fucking important anyway.
What it came down to was Favio needed me to lend him $20 bucks, because his Brazilian ATM card wasn't working, and he had a girl on her way from SFO in a cab, and she didn't have any yankee-dollars, and there was no way to blah blah - and could I lend him the money? It seemed like a pretty hinky story. I hate being a sap, and I try not to take the position, but he'd always seemed like a nice guy. He dressed pretty well - kind of a long hair, tattoo on his bicep surfer type. Whatever. Maybe I'm stupid, but I took a chance. It's seemed like the neigbhourly thing to do. What's the gambIe I thought: $20 on the goodness of the human race; I'll take those odds. I'd considered asking for his watch as collateral, but that seemed rather mean and ungentlemanly.. I'd feel like some moth-eaten old pawnbroker, taking the guy's watch off like that. Making someone give up their watch seems very dehumanizing - It's kind of like; "You won't be needing this anymore." There's a thing about a watch in The Pianist. It's always the last act of desperation when you sell or trade away a watch

Of course favio never showed up with the money. All the next day kept an eye open for him, but he was gone like Buddy Holly. And I felt like a jackass. Had I learned nothing from three years of living in the Mission district?
Two weeks went by and I finsihed moving down to L.A.: The sting of Favio's little scam passed - I'd even forgotten about it, when who should I run into today? I don't think he was expecting to see me. And again, there were more greetings and saluations. Where had I been, he asked pleadingly. As he explained how he'd come by, again and again... And I just stared at him. When I finally answered, it wasn't in playfully broken Portuguese.
"What the fuck is up with my money dog?" I asked, without a trace of humor. "You got it? Give it to me now."
He padded both his front pockets with his hands, to indicate that he wasn't carrying twenty bucks. I insisted that he absolutely had to put the money in my hand that day. Slipping between Englisn and Portuguses, he protested that he had wanted to pay me, and that I was treating him like "um vago".
"As far as I'm concerned you are a vago." I said. "I want $20 in my hand to-day."
I turned slowly to walk away, then looked back.
"To-day." I said for the third and last time.

I'd related the story to my pop as we sat out on his front porch. I told him all about the Tag Heuer watch the guy'd had, and I laughed scornfully about the vago brand. I also laughed and bragged about how I'd kept repeating "to-day", emphasizing the two separate words, like Robert deniro says in Goodfellas. We were laughing, and kicking it like that when Favio walked up and handed me a twenty dollar bill folded in four.
"Thank you." I said pleasantly. I took the note and held it in front of my face.
Favio walked off sullenly, his hands in his pockets.
"Looks like it's your day to make deals." My pop said.
I admired the likeness of Mr. Jackson on the double sawbuck.
"Yeah, it looks like." I said smiling.






























At least he wasn't going around with a 12ga. and a roll of duct tape. I gave him three cigarettes: How's that for compassion? I was very worldbeat then.