Queens, Early Morning: “Quiet”

I remember him as vividly as I can - a white haired, white man with a belly I suspected was the result of too many Doritos. He swayed slightly as he walked and when he talked it sounded like he was wearing braces. I kept glancing at his teeth. It took me two hours to figure out that there was no corrective orthodontic device in his mouth, it was just the unfortunate way that his teeth sounded.

I met him in the kind of New York back alley that has been recreated on many studio lots in Hollywood and Vancouver. It was nighttime and I was a little bit drunk and a little bit high. I was taking a short cut in my walk home between two buildings that, had I been sober, I likely would have opted to walk the long way around. It was 1:30 in the morning and a perfect storm of limited overnight bus service in Queens and Uber/Lyft surge pricing coupled with my crossfaded decision making meant that this back alley was my best and only option.

“I might die tonight,” I remember saying as I started down the alley. “Whatever. So it goes.”

Right at the point where I began to wonder if I could actually see anything anymore or if my mind was just making things up because it thought that I should be able to see things, a soft voice came out of the darkness.

“Hey. I wouldn’t go any further,” it said. I didn’t recognize this voice so I did not listen to it. Back when I lived in Iowa I might have. You respect strangers in Iowa. It’s why too many people are kidnapped. I’d been in New York City for five years at this point. I didn’t trust anybody. “I’m serious. Don’t go any further. Stay where you are. I’ll come to you. Really. Trust me.”

Shapes began forming in my vision from total darkness into near darkness and I could suddenly see Jay Pritcher, white man with white hair, sitting on a milk crate, holding his right hand in his left. It looked like his right hand was bleeding although I couldn’t smell any blood.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

“You’ve gotta be more careful,” he said. “Someone like you should be more careful. Someone like you shouldn’t be walking down alley’s like this. The kind of person that hangs out in dark alleys like this in the middle of night is the kind of person that should be avoided. At all costs.”

“A kind of person like you,” I said.

“No. Not like me. I’m fine. You can trust me.” He held out his hand. “Jay Pritcher. Nice to meet you.”

“But you just said…” I shook it but intentionally did not offer my name.

“It’s fine,” said Jay. “Don’t worry about it. I’m, like, normal. You know?”

“But like what were you doing down here?”

“Like I said don’t worry about it. I don’t want to tell you what I was doing here in the dark and I didn’t have time come up with a good excuse because I honestly didn’t expect anyone to be coming down this alleyway this late at night. I mean what kind of person goes down a dark alleyway at 1:45 in the morning?”

“It’s actually 1:30,” I said.

“No. It’s 1:45.” I pulled out my phone. He was right. I put my phone back in my pocket keenly aware that he had seen what kind of phone it was. It was an iPhone 5S. Perhaps this man, this Jay Pritcher, was smarter than I had initially given him credit for. But also he had been sitting by himself in a pitch black alley in the middle of the night. I’m a progressive person. I give money to the homeless people that come through on the subway as long as they are nice about it. The key is to hold your breath from the moment they are right in front of you until when they are like 5 feet past you. It’s the only way to avoid breathing in homeless person smell. But I also think that they should just pull up their bootstraps and get a job.

“So, uh, I’m gonna go,” I said, backing away. I would find another way home and hope that this clearly homeless man who called himself Jay Pitcher did not follow me.

“Wait,” he said.

“What,” I said.

“So like I can’t tell you what I’m actually doing here - it’s something pretty friggin cool, though! - but I need you to stay here for just a little bit,” Jay said. “So, uh, you know. Just like trust me. Nothing bad is going to happen. I know how weird that sounds”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” I said. I am an American! I thought. “And I am going home,” I said.

“No no no no no no! PleasepleasepleasepleasePLEASE!” Jay whimpered. “Just stay. Please. Really. It’s awesome! It’s gonna be soooo cool. Trust me.”

“Tell me what it is and maybe I’ll stay,” I said. This night could not get any weirder, and I could still taste fuzz in my mouth.

“Ughhh. I told you. I can’t! But it’s gonna be, like, really cool,” he said. “Like, you’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“Goodnight.” I briskly walked back out of the alley, my eyes adjusting to the blinding yellow haze of the street light.

“WAIT!” I heard footsteps gallop up behind me and I turned around to see Jay Pitcher, a stocky white haired man who looked like he had never seen sunlight, doubled over in front of me, wheezing. “Just…hold on…woah…Did you see that?…Did you see what I just…I ran like a fucking mile or something…Incredible!”

“It was like 50 feet. I’m going home.”

“Nah. That’s not true…It was longer than that. Has to have been. Look at that. That’s a long fucking way.”

“What do you want, Jay?” He did not immediately answer. As far as I know it’s not possible for a human being to drown in oxygen, and Jay Pritcher was about to make history.“Goodnight, Jay.” I started walking down the street.

“Dirk!” he yelled. “You’ve got a family, right? Your daughters, Lexi and Blevin.”

“Blevin?”

“Shit. No, you’re right. It’s not right.” I turned around. Jay was rummaging around in his pockets. “Shit. Where did I put it? It’s here somewhere.” He pulled out a loose scrap of paper. “Matilda. Lexi and Matilda.”

“You leave me the fuck alone!” I bellowed, probably waking up the entire neighborhood, but I did not care. It’s one thing to harass strangers in dark alleyways in the middle of the night. It’s quite another to talk about my children. They’re my fucking children and you don’t get to talk about them. Nobody does. “I’ll call the cops. I swear.” I pulled out my cellphone. “I’ll do it the fuck right now I don’t even give a shit. They’ll take you in. You’ll never see daylight again.” I’m not sure if that’s true, but it felt good saying it.

“I’ve never seen daylight anyways, Mr. Mingus,” he said, silhouetted by the streetlamp, his voice echoing off of the closed steel grates of the bodegas and shops that lined the street. “And you can go. I wish that you wouldn’t. But you can go.”

“You better not fucking follow me.”

“I won’t.”

“And stay away from my fucking kids.”

“I will,” he said. “Make the next year and a half count, Dirk. Have a good one.”

He turned away from me, heading back into the alleyway. What was that supposed to mean?

“What’s that supposed to mean? Hey, Jay! Is that a fucking threat man? Are you threatening me?”

“No,” said Jay, turning around. “The plane crash. Flight 7932. You’ve got about a year and a half. I’m sure you’re living every day to the fullest. You don’t need me to tell you that you’re going to die soon.”

“What the FUCK are you talking about, you fucking psycho!” I spat.

“Oh wait.” If it was possible, Jay turned even whiter. “Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh fuck. You don’t know. Um…You know what, dude? Never mind.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Am I gonna die in a year and half. Wait. What’s the number of the flight?”

“I dunno,” said Jay. “Goodnight. Sorry about that.”

“What’s the fucking number of the flight that is gonna crash and that I’m gonna die on?” I screamed. A dog began barking in the distance.

“I can’t say. You’re not supposed to know.” I grabbed Jay by the lapels of his coat and lifted him off the ground.

“I’m just a crazy bum. A wild and wacky homeless man living in an alley way in Queens. You’re not gonna listen to me! I’m insane! What do I know? I don’t fucking know what I’m talking about!”

“What if you do, though,” I said. “What was that fucking number.”

“Like I said,” he said, “I’m fucking nuts. I’m insane. Don’t listen to me.” He let go of him and he crumpled to the ground. He looked up at me and for the first time I realized that I could smell him.

“Spare some change, sir?” he said, his voice suddenly higher. I took out my wallet, grabbed a five dollar bill and dropped it on the ground. He looked at it, but didn’t pick it up.

“This fucking city,” I said, turning one last time to walk away.

“God bless you, sir,” he called out from behind me. I heard the scampering of feet and jingling of some bottles. I did not turn around again but I’m pretty sure that if I had I would have seen the beam of an empty streetlight, slowly and silently getting ready for the summer sun to rise.