THe FReCKLeD FINGeR

It happens only once a year.  It's not something I plan, expect or wait for, but every time it does happen, it is even more special than the time before.

In fact, if I were to plan it, it would depreciate the value of this phenomenon.  Spontaneity is the engine of this particular event and  and utter satisfaction is it's allure.

It's not a birthday.

It's not a lunar eclipse.

It's not a special holiday.

The setting is Central Park in New York City.  The Park has a white blanket of snow and the tourists flock to this Manhattan staple to witness it's picturesque beauty. 

As winter begins to die down, but has yet to unleash some of it's coldest days, I begin to start a strict jogging regiment to ready myself for the Spring and ultimately, warmer weather... and that, my friends, is the signal flare that the event can happen at any moment.

You must be very observant during these times as this phenomenon can happen at any time and many-a-joggers have missed their moment because they, although most likely on their toes, were not on their toes... if that makes sense.

IT HAPPENS!

You are jogging down Central Park West about to reach your corner on 73rd Street and you see a homeless man begging for money.

His body draped in layer upon layer as he tries desperately to cover any exposed skin against the frigid air. You are scantily clad in your high running shorts, ankle socks and UnderArmour short sleeve shirt... You tend to get hot when you are running.

He is starving and turning any anger he has against society into the tiniest resemblance of charm to try and win over a kind soul that will give him whatever spare change they have so he can have his first meal in 72hrs and gain the calories he needs to survive the night.  You are desperately trying to rid yourself the calories you consumed during your day and shed all unnecessary fat bodies to try and find abs.

He drinks his own urine to try and sustain and fight off dehydration.  You throw an $8 bottle of the freshest water in your face because you have a single bead of sweat nearing your eye.

Two opposite ends of the economic and life spectrum. Two souls, never before knowing of each other's existence until this encounter, pushing themselves in definitive different directions.  For one romantic moment you lock eyes and due to your iPod blasting, you only see him mouth the words, 'Please, help me'.  You politely remove your earphones and with the only poetic and eloquent response you know how to give in this beautiful, fleeting moment, you speak:

Fuck man, do I look like I have anything on me?! I'm fuckin' jogging for Christ's sake! You people are ridiculous!