Day CCLIII

The Third Day

     “Yo George, lookey det, man it’s time to go to work.”

     “How ya feel, dude?

     “Same as yestaday.”

     “Can ya woik?”

     “Ida na man, but I’m willing ta gi it a try, dude.”

     “Me too. Gimme a few minutes I’ll take ya home.”

     After about an hour he dropped me off, and I went through the same routine as the day before. Only this time as I headed out, I was focused, determined to at least make a few calls. The day was a little cloudy, and I prayed it wouldn’t rain. I didn’t even want to think of going through that ordeal in the park again. I visited a few spots, but the decision makers weren’t in, so I couldn’t make my pitch. I was striking out, but I was working, staying positive, not getting negative, and smoking more than that Camel sign on Broadway in Manhattan, the one that blows out a giant “O” every minute .

     For an instant my mind flashed to the Puerco Rico, but I had burnt that bridge the day before. I had to give Cheo at least a week or two to get over it, so that perhaps in time he would see the funny in it, and forgive me. Though the thunk of that dude hurling, made me giggle a bit. But hell, there were plenty of other places to eat. New York City must have more restaurants than any other place on the planet. Anyway, it seems that way. You name the country, and for sure we have a place somewhere within the five boroughs where you can find its culture and food.