Monday, 20 July 2015

Envoy rollerboy

I’ve never been terribly fond of unexpected visitors at my door. Possibly King of the castle syndrome, I'm not sure.With Parkinson's, that sentiment has only intensified. I also seem to have a diminished ability to fake it, i.e., the doorbells equivalent of a phone call’s “no, you didn’t wake me up” demeanour. It’s just that often the timing is not right - meaning that with the effort required to get downstairs, I might as well have been asked to go down and raise the drawbridge.
I shuffled to the door. The impatient second ring came quickly. With that info I pegged our dirty rascal as mid to late high school. I opened the door and there he was - “Roller Boy”. A landscaping busker, an entrepreneurial huckster, ultimately, 100% pure bluster.

 A young man of linguistic economy, his approach was pure, unadulterated, and wholly unrehearsed. "Want your lawn Rolled?" was both his opener and closer. I thought it my duty to suggest that in my neighbourhood of lilliputian lots, perhaps he might make more money as a chimney sweep. I refrained. His facial expression turned quizzical. He looked at me, cocked his head (like my Collie/Husky Cross does when she can’t find her squeaky toy), then tossed me a grenade. 

Are you using?" Before I could utter anything more than unintelligibles, he pulled the pin and lobbed the second, “Are you on heroin?” I was stunned. Stunned that this kid was allowed to leave the factory without a filter installed - and stunned that I could be mistaken for a heroin user. Did I really look that bad?
I quickly marshalled all available brain cells with dopamine reserves and explored my options. I could 1) Thump him upside of his subthalamic nucleus. 2) Accuse him of being a member of the Flat Earth Society, and disappear inside.  3) Consider It a teachable moment. I threw back my head and let out a hearty laugh. And with that, Parkinson's 101 in the reeducation of “Roller Boy” began.

While some may be surprised with my reaction (or lack of) Why did I not take offence? It took me a while to figure it out but I think underneath it all, I was simply pleased that I didn’t give a shit. Not in the disrespectful “I don’t care what you think” way, the “this is not something I need be concerned with” way. But is it all that simple?

Part 2 Coming Up...

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