February 12, 2009

February 12 was an unusual day. It started with a delayed subway ride (always a good indicator how my day will go by) and I ended with staying back late in the office for reasons I didn't even know. It was one of those days where effort is triple the result.

Anyhow, after the long day I had the best Pakistani food in my life. To be fair, it was my best Pakistani food. To be even more fair, it was my first Pakistani food. Not only it was finger linking good (I was using my hand to eat), I was thinking about it two days later. After the delicious meal from a long day, we departed around 935pm, I headed east to the 4,5 subway.

Since I have a son 2 years ago, I hardly walked around NYC at night in the weekdays anymore, dazed in the rich after-taste of best Pakistani food I ever had and, I walked and walked and maybe God was playing with me, I passed my subway entrance by 2 blocks. As I turned around after realizing my mistake and was about 100 feet before the subway entrance, a SUV stopped in front of me, a dude in his twenties reached over from the driver seat and asked me for direction. In his hand he was holding a worn out Manhattan map, spoke with thick accent and more-broken-than-mine English (according to him, it was Italanio) but it did not sound much to me any close to the Brok’yn “How’ ye dooing” kind of tone. He asked me to direct him to Lincoln tunnel from the worn out map. It was dark, cold in the upper thirties; I could not see what was what.

Since this stupid recession has started, I had been trying to be nicer, more helpful to people, before this, I could care less for this kind of need. He asked for help, I try to provide the assistance. So I pulled out my iPhone, loaded the map and showed him direction to reach to 34^th street. I was pointing on 42^nd (we were on 28^th) and asked him if he was going to Newark, he went “Yes, yes… si, Newark, si”, without paying much attention to where my finger was pointing. Just as I was about to leave and enter the subway station, he burst out “You are very kind man, I worked for the Georgia Armani, I need some help”. Things just got fishy starting from here. In his best attempted-Italanio English, he explained he was from Italy, working for Geogia Armani, attended the fashion show in Javitz convention center, had promised to help his boss to carry jackets home, it would be too much hassle and he would have to pay heavy duty tax, he was out of cash, so wondering if I would buy 3 jackets from him, he would just charge me for one.

Hmm, 3 for 1, he was returning me a favor for being helpful, it was late, he had a flight to catch. My little evil of greed kicked in, I started thinking. Maybe my eyes glittered with lights at that point, at the same time I paused; he willingly showed me his flight ticket, rental car receipt and the red Italian passport. As I recalled now I remembered I saw paper with words in plane-ticket cover, paper with words and a passport-like booklet in red. I did not identify any one of them to what he claimed they were. He started asking my name, where I worked and would sell all two leather jackets with a suede shirt which cost over three grand total for six hundreds. I also got the luxury to touch the material, smell the aroma of leather. After that he begged me to help. To be honest, he had one of the most truthful eyes I ever seen, it was so sincere that I was seriously thinking about the leather jacket with Armani tags on them. I declined and I said I did not have 6 hundred cash with me, then he had me touched the material again, smelled the aroma of leather. This went back and forth for couple minutes, I declined, he begged, I touched the material, smelled the aroma of leather, rejected his offer to ATM, and touched the leather again. Finally he pointed at me “why not help me? Why? Why? How much do you have?” I sensed desperation, the desperate of getting cash. “You were a nice guy and I wanted to do something for you” “One hundred, 3 leathers for one hundred, help me.” “So let me get this straight, you worked for Georgia Armani, have trouble bringing too many leather jackets home because of duty tax, and wanna sell me three for one hundred?” “Yes!” Turned around to the back seat he showed me more nicely packed garment and suits with the Armani logo all over.

“Sorry I could not help you, I am going to leave now.” In his eyes I could see the most sorrow and desperation as I walked away. I entered the subway with great debate within me, what if he was for real? What if he was really desperate? What could I lose with $100, three Armani leathers, even if they were stolen it was still worthwhile? Should I turned around and help him out?

An old Manhattan map, going to New Jersey while coming to NY for convention, did not pay attention to my direction and asking how much I had, duty tax to carry work clothing? All these rushed through my head within that quick moment.

Later on as I reached home the first thing I found was this:
http://www.wonderhowto.com/how-to/video/how-to-pull-off-the-leather-jacket-stitch-up-scam-77887/

Like a dumbass I was, I did truthfully feel sorry for him. In recession, I thought that people would be in need of help, like a dumbass I was, I was the naïve one.

Recession my ass.