This is a continuation of my previous story of triple-dodging a raccoon. It just so happened, that only couple days after I danced with the raccoon, I saw another one in almost the exact same spot. Now, naturally, I was feeling a little bolder. I was probably still on cloud nine from my dance a couple nights before. And here, right in front of my path is ANOTHER raccoon! In all probability, it was the same exact one. It was hard to tell because this one had its face buried in a trash can. So, at first, I just watched the little guy eat.
It gets better. It left the one trash can and went to another. So, I followed him to the next. There was something going on in my mind as I was watching and following this critter. The poor guy was hungry...and having no luck finding any crumbles in the trash and I was thirsty...thirsty for some excitement involving this natural born thief. He went to another. As I watched him go to this trash can, a plan hatched in my mind. Yes, exactly. It hatched. I realized that I wanted to touch this raccoon.
I pictured myself grabbing it as it stuck its head into the bin, but the picture that unrolled in my mind consisted of me turning my head away and holding the raccoon as far away from my body as I could, while the raccoon made unusual noises, wriggled and squirmed, clawing my arms like a farmer hoes his garden. There would be no grabbing this thing. However, during all of this thinking, I had been inching closer to Reginald, which is the name that I have just given to the raccoon.
I was two feet, TWO FEET, away from this amazing masked critter, Reginald. He looked at me, but the hunger in his eyes pushed away all fear in his bones, and he stuck his masked face into the garbage can. Politely and eloquently, I extended my hand towards its body. I am physically shaking with excitement and anticipation. If someone were to walk by me, they might have thought I was having a seizure. I don't really know what I was planning on doing. After I had decided I would not grab Reginald, I ceased to come up with a plan B. I did know that the rarity of the opportunity that sat before me was mind-numbing.
I extended my hand a little closer. My arm is jolting up and down with the rapidity of an automatic shotgun that is pointed at the ground. In all likelihood it would have registered as a 4.0 earthquake on the richter scale. I have a smile on my face that no professional window washer from New York could have wiped off. My hand extends a little further and--the only picture I had in my mind was Reginald, wildly turning around, showing its teeth and gnawing on my hand because it couldn't find anything in the trash can. I am right outside the library. Anyone could be passing by, but nobody is. Probably for my demise.
Reginald is feasting away or looking desperately for some leftover sushi scraps. I have no idea what it was looking for.
I POKED THE RAVENOUS RACCOON!! It didn't even turn around or pull its head out of the trash bin. So I poked it again, turned around like a champ and walked off with some bounce in my step, feeling like Napoleon Bonaparte when he took the crown out of the Pope's hand and placed it on his own head.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
You've heard of the artful dodger? Well, friend...
I am the artful double-dodger.
For my reader, let me explain the "double-dodge." It's a skill that many possess and do not even know it. Children and adults alike take part in this art and billions have no idea. People are exposed to it from an early age in the form of "playing chicken". Now, this is a far-cry from the skill of double-dodging, but it is where we see the first beginnings. I will unfold the workings of a double-dodge.
As young children grow into older children, they will, no doubt, have to get up to sharpen a #2 pencil while in school.
Let the reader understand, that this part of childhood is inevitable and must be undertaken by all, legible handwriting or not. It is also inevitable that during one of these secretly loved trips to the sharpener, the child will "run into" another, who is returning from the little monster who eats the wood shavings. It is during this encounter (and innumerable others like it), that children are exposed to the "double-dodge."
First, one will go left and the other goes right. It even sounds good on paper, but his left is the other's right. The first dodge has failed. Once the two feet hit the ground, eye contact is made. The eye contact in between the first and second dodge is very important. If they can read the other's mind and pass each other on the second attempt, the rest of the sharpening excursion will be carried out with whistling and gladness of heart. The odds are, however, that both children attempt to pass by on the other side, unable to read the other's eyes. The reading of eyes is not taught in most contemporary schools, unlike phonics or mathematics or pecking orders.
Both children then swing the back foot forward and the feet almost touch. The eye contact is still held and little minds are racing trying hard to not make it awkward and both parties show a quick smile accompanied by a slight nod.
Now the dance is almost over. Whichever party has the most manners (I think this is silently decided on during the "reading of the eyes" or lack thereof) will step aside, swing their arms in the desired direction of their worthy opponent and maybe even give a slight bow. The dance has ended and the double-dodge has been completed.
Note that no words have been exchanged, because it is an unspoken rule, and for all we know, forbidden, to exchange any words until after one is on their way.
Now that you know the art of the double-dodge and how it comes about, be encouraged to know that I have been perfecting this art, honing my skills in it for several years. I have intentionally been the cause of many double-dodge dances. I thoroughly enjoy them and have tried to spread the joy to many of my close friends. My best moments, is when I could prolong the double-dodge into a triple-dodge. Only once have I ever completed a quadruple-dodge. Amazing. And only once have I ever been in any such dodging dance with a raccoon, and it graced me with a triple.
You have been incredibly patient with my rambling explanations, so, friends, here is my story:
I triple-dodged a raccoon. Not double-dodged, but triple dodged. We were practically, theoretically, physically and emotionally two-stepping.
I was walking towards my college's campus coffee shop. Even though, I was not going to buy any coffee, at the time, it is what I was doing. Now, raccoons are a common occurence on this campus. They are so common, that even with their masks you can recognize them. Ironically, if they were to remove the masks, we wouldn't be able tell one from the other.
As I was walking towards the coffee shop, I hear one of these masked-bandits in a trash can. I look up and see that he would have to run by me in order to make it to his getaway. That was his only mistake and it worked out to my benefit. I approached it and it hears me. Then it sees me. I'll be honest, I wanted to catch it. I had already chased one across a parking lot, but that one was gone before I started running. This one...this one was right where I wanted him. He knew it, too. He jumps off the trash can. We are about 30 feet away from each other. My feet are planted and his paws are tensed. I could see it.
Obviously, I start tip-toeing toward it slowly, arching my back and bending my arms like a T-Rex. This is so he doesn't think I am moving towards it. My approaching skills are not as honed as my double-dodging skills. The raccoon immediately recognizes that I am approaching it and begins to run towards me. I get out of stealth mode and brace myself. It tried to go right, thus I went left.
And the rest is pretty predictable. We completed the triple-dodge and then, being the more civilized of the two, I stepped aside and bowed graciously as it sped to its getaway.
For my reader, let me explain the "double-dodge." It's a skill that many possess and do not even know it. Children and adults alike take part in this art and billions have no idea. People are exposed to it from an early age in the form of "playing chicken". Now, this is a far-cry from the skill of double-dodging, but it is where we see the first beginnings. I will unfold the workings of a double-dodge.
As young children grow into older children, they will, no doubt, have to get up to sharpen a #2 pencil while in school.
Let the reader understand, that this part of childhood is inevitable and must be undertaken by all, legible handwriting or not. It is also inevitable that during one of these secretly loved trips to the sharpener, the child will "run into" another, who is returning from the little monster who eats the wood shavings. It is during this encounter (and innumerable others like it), that children are exposed to the "double-dodge."
First, one will go left and the other goes right. It even sounds good on paper, but his left is the other's right. The first dodge has failed. Once the two feet hit the ground, eye contact is made. The eye contact in between the first and second dodge is very important. If they can read the other's mind and pass each other on the second attempt, the rest of the sharpening excursion will be carried out with whistling and gladness of heart. The odds are, however, that both children attempt to pass by on the other side, unable to read the other's eyes. The reading of eyes is not taught in most contemporary schools, unlike phonics or mathematics or pecking orders.
Both children then swing the back foot forward and the feet almost touch. The eye contact is still held and little minds are racing trying hard to not make it awkward and both parties show a quick smile accompanied by a slight nod.
Now the dance is almost over. Whichever party has the most manners (I think this is silently decided on during the "reading of the eyes" or lack thereof) will step aside, swing their arms in the desired direction of their worthy opponent and maybe even give a slight bow. The dance has ended and the double-dodge has been completed.
Note that no words have been exchanged, because it is an unspoken rule, and for all we know, forbidden, to exchange any words until after one is on their way.
Now that you know the art of the double-dodge and how it comes about, be encouraged to know that I have been perfecting this art, honing my skills in it for several years. I have intentionally been the cause of many double-dodge dances. I thoroughly enjoy them and have tried to spread the joy to many of my close friends. My best moments, is when I could prolong the double-dodge into a triple-dodge. Only once have I ever completed a quadruple-dodge. Amazing. And only once have I ever been in any such dodging dance with a raccoon, and it graced me with a triple.
You have been incredibly patient with my rambling explanations, so, friends, here is my story:
I triple-dodged a raccoon. Not double-dodged, but triple dodged. We were practically, theoretically, physically and emotionally two-stepping.
I was walking towards my college's campus coffee shop. Even though, I was not going to buy any coffee, at the time, it is what I was doing. Now, raccoons are a common occurence on this campus. They are so common, that even with their masks you can recognize them. Ironically, if they were to remove the masks, we wouldn't be able tell one from the other.
As I was walking towards the coffee shop, I hear one of these masked-bandits in a trash can. I look up and see that he would have to run by me in order to make it to his getaway. That was his only mistake and it worked out to my benefit. I approached it and it hears me. Then it sees me. I'll be honest, I wanted to catch it. I had already chased one across a parking lot, but that one was gone before I started running. This one...this one was right where I wanted him. He knew it, too. He jumps off the trash can. We are about 30 feet away from each other. My feet are planted and his paws are tensed. I could see it.
Obviously, I start tip-toeing toward it slowly, arching my back and bending my arms like a T-Rex. This is so he doesn't think I am moving towards it. My approaching skills are not as honed as my double-dodging skills. The raccoon immediately recognizes that I am approaching it and begins to run towards me. I get out of stealth mode and brace myself. It tried to go right, thus I went left.
And the rest is pretty predictable. We completed the triple-dodge and then, being the more civilized of the two, I stepped aside and bowed graciously as it sped to its getaway.
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