Dave's #1 Welcome to NYC, Boys!

Through the two-inch crack in the window water poured in on my brother, Brent, as the man in the white tux with the black bow tie and broken umbrella started to spew his emergency. “I am so sorry to stop you, but my white Mercedes is four blocks down the street and I ran out of gas." he says as he holds up his empty red gas can. “SOLD” I say to myself as I pat my pockets and find them empty. I look up to the man’s eyes that I see staring back at a bulging wallet between Brent and me. Filled with charity and compassion for this down and out man I instruct Brent to give him some money. Brent opens his wallet and searches for words and small bills to limit his loses. “Brent, give him $20 bucks", I tell him more fervently this time. Finding nothing smaller Brent painfully hands over the money. The broken umbrella is letting just enough street light through to light up the man's grin and the now apparent, and strangely odd headphones, the man is listening to.

“That is a total scam!” Brent exclaims. I defiantly state “No way”, but at the same time flash back to the giant headphones which start to tip me off that maybe Brent wasn’t actually being Greedy Gonzales, but street smart. With a spark of trust still left, I less confidently state, “No way Brent, that guy told us exactly where he was broken down and everything”. I could see by Brent's expression that this was turning into a moment that I wasn’t going to easily live down if I didn’t prove the earnestness of our stranger to Brent.

I hopefully state, “Let’s turn around and go look for his out of gas car." Brent quickly agrees and heads for the spot that the man had told us about. Nothing but a few yellow taxis trolled down the barren street. Having lost the battle but still trying to hold moral ground on the cause, we pull up to the same exact stop light were it all started. Right in front of us the man with the red gas can was waving people over. I jumped out of the car and walked up to the man, “Dude, I want the $20 bucks back, we looked for your car and it isn’t there!” Shocked he looked at me but insisted again that he was out of gas. “Fine, let’s go get you some gas and we will take you to your car” I told him. My down-and-out New Yorker ignored my last appeal and continued to pull cars over. The cars would unroll their windows and I would yell, “Scam artist, keep moving.” Getting mad now, I exclaim, “Give me my $20 bucks back, or I will stand here all night.”

At this point, the man starts to cross the street and is walking away from me and explaining that he has now decided to go and get some gas. I follow him on foot while Brent is watching and listening from the car. Suddenly, a taxi pulls up across the street and the man scampers into the cab and then squeels off. Jumping back in Brent’s car I yell, “Follow that Taxi!” Hydroplaning across the standing pools of water, we catch up to the cab as he runs a red light. Brent exclaims with a big adventous grin on his face, “We can at least run his cab fare up to $20 bucks!”

New to New York we are flying up 3rd Avenue and into Spanish Harlem. Brent and I have just entered a movie set and the cameras are rolling. The movie set is complete with projects, burnt out buildings and washed out graffiti. Pulling up to a red light the action stops as the cab comes to a stop. Brent and I look at each other as if to ask each other “LINE?" And as with all great action movies, lines are secondary to the action. The door to the taxi is flung open and the dripping wet mud slinger is now running for the alley. With no help from the casting director and now improvising, Brent throws his door open and starts running down the street after the man. At this moment I realize there aren’t any cameras, there isn't a script, and there definitely is no safety net. Immediately, I jump across to the driver's seat and shoot down the alley after Brent in hot pursuit.

Brent is in full stride is now on the man’s heals as he slows his pace and looks over again at me driving next to him as if to ask “Line?”. The look of shock on my face let’s Brent know that I have nothing for him. The man Brent’s chasing is now yelling at him, “I wouldn’t follow me, my boys will cut you up!” Brent yells back with bravado to match, “Bring it on!”, but starts to slow his pace giving the wild eyed and wounded badger some room. Fumbling for his keys the badger holds onto door knob of a broken down apartment building and yells, “Don’t come any closer, I will cut you!” Brent now knowing he can out run him and pops off, “What are you going to cut me with? And by the way we know where you live”. Shaking and with his tail tucked between his legs, we have no desire or even the courage to pursue the ill-gotten gain. The man slips in the doorway and into the darkened hall.

Having tree-ed the varmint, we have now been paid far more then 20 bucks. Climbing into the car and trying to process the events of the last 30 minutes, a taxi suddenly screeches in front of our car. The driver jumps out and screaming in broken English, “He stole from me, that man no pay his cab fare!” The cabbie grabs his phone and yells for the police. Within minutes we are surrounded by Five-O. The cabbie explains to the six police officers that arrive on the scene that the man told him he gave him a 20 dollar bill and then as he drove off he noticed he had handed him a dollar. The officers enter the building and Brent and I exchange stories with the cab driver as we bond in our stupidity.

A few minutes later, the cops walk out of the building and explain they can’t go door to door in the building at 3a.m. looking for 20 bucks. The officers then ask what Brent and I are doing. We quickly explain what happened to which they respond, “Where you boys from?” Brent jumps in and starts to tell them that we are from Philly, as I cut him off and firmly state “We are from Utah”.

My response was far better than they had hoped for as they all erupted into laughter and yell back “Welcome to New York City, boys!”