Day CLXll

Pitch & Put

    Not to beat a dead horse, but I had another pal, who had a similar experience. Whitey and I used to play a lot of pitch and putt in Flushing park; one of the only two courses in the city. He played all the Lotto games; the numbers, and took the bus to Atlantic City once in a while. Since he didn't have any luck at all, he started to pray for a mishap of some kind...so he could cash in. He wanted a car accident with a wealthy dude or something. He even had plans as to how he was going to use the money. He had a dream wall street portfolio, and plans for what he was going to do for his relatives.

     “Don’t worry dude, Oi gi ya piece a money too, man,” he said to me one day.

     “Whitey be careful wat ya prays fo man, ya shouldn’t be doing dat soit a thang, man.”

     “Na na, man, ya just wait, man one of deeze days, man, ya jest watch.”

     Then one rainy afternoon he was crossing the Grand Concourse. It’s a six lane highway in the Bronx masquerading as a boulevard. There’s a tunnel, and he was standing on the north side, waiting for the light to change. He was standing behind a light pole on the island, opposite the exit to the main road as traffic merged from the service road.  As he was standing there a Mercedes came barreling out of the tunnel, it swerved to avoid a merging idiot. Man, some peeps, it just seems they get their
license at Sears or some .99 cent store, and have no clue or concept of road rules. Whitey’s umbrella went up into the air, as the Mercedes mowed the light pole down, and him along with it.

     “Waaaaaaaaaa!” Off to the hospital he went.