A Stranger's Time

I’m going to try and include a song for each bit I write that may or may not be related to the bit’s content. A friend showed me this about year ago and it still hasn’t gotten old. Friko - Where We’ve Been.

I’m sitting at the 30th Street station in Philadelphia, waiting for my train to Baltimore. A man, whom introduced himself as Irving Fields, sat next to me and asked for my smile. He went on to give me his life story in quick succession. A silly anecdote about growing up in Philly and eating cheese steaks his whole life but not knowing the city is famous for them. He had been homeless and sketching people for money was his salvation. My laptop was open and he asked me to google him. He spoke out “Irving Fields Philadelphia” and I typed it into the address bar. He looked at my laptop and excitedly says “that’s all me” while his finger motions up and down my screen as the results populated the page. A few articles. Some photos. His Instagram profile. He would interrupt the conversation periodically with a “Look at me” and continue to sketch. 10 minutes had gone by. I began to pickup where the conversation was headed. He was going to ask for money in exchange for the sketch. Firstly, I had no money. Secondly, it wasn’t a sketch of me. He was only pretending to sketch me, keeping his notebook close to his chest. Before he showed me the sketch, he flashed his leg. It was missing. “I got hit by a car” He said. He revealed his drawing. It looked nothing like me. He repeated he was no longer homeless then asked me for money. I felt bad but declined anyway. I had no money to give. He went silent. The charisma and jubilance faded away. Irvan collected his things and walked away. I don’t know how much of Irving’s story was true but it was clear he had a tumultuous life. You can’t fake only having only 1 leg easily. He was doing his best to get by with cards he was dealt.

Irving’s search results still litered across my screen. I clicked the first link; an article titled A Stranger’s Time. His experience replicated mine to a T. From the lifted pant leg revealing his missing leg, to the cheese steak story. The sketch that beared no resemblance to its subject. It was no longer a spontaneous, eccentric man trying to make a living. It was a tightly, scripted encounter with a well practiced, eccentric man trying to make a living. Is one really worse than the other? I think it is but I can’t blame him for trying.