If you have gum, you have friends

Two sunny summer adventures about giving and getting.

#1: Follow someone around Manhattan. But don't tell let them know you're following them. Submitted by a fellow Metro Napper (see previous post).

Where we left off, I had just had an exhausting Metro Nap, a spicy Korean lunch, and was headed to the East Village. When I got to E. 7th Street, I picked out Morose Guy with a Jean Jacket and proceeded towander behind him down 7th toward the park. But almost immediately, he turned around and asked if I had a cigarette. Cover blown! No cigarettes, but I offered him a sprinkle of my freshly purchased Nerds candy (he requested grape). As he tossed them into his mouth one by one, he said, "I forgot how good this shit is!" I found a wall to lean on casually as I cased out other people to follow. Classy Older Woman was walking on Avenue A; I gave her 15 feet and then started walking behind her. Classy Older Woman walked quickly, for three or four blocks, then reached her car and started to get into it. For a thrilling moment, I considered hailing a cab, shouting, "follow that car!" and trailing her to wherever she was going next. But instead I stood in the street watching her drive away.
Next, I followed Enormous Bearded Gentleman into Odessa, which was a huge cheat; I was waiting for someone to go into Odessa so I could get a milkshake there. EBG joined a friend in a booth and I struck up a conversation about the importance of sweating with a man waiting for takeout food. I told him about my summer and asked if he had any suggestions of things to do. He said, "What you need to do, OK, is, I'm going to call my aunt, she lives right here in the neighborhood, and see if she needs help with anything." He borrowed my cellphone and stepped outside to make the call. He was gone for such a long time that I started to think I had just idioted myself out of my cellphone. But he came back. The aunt wanted me to come over. She lived only a few blocks away, between Avenues B and C. I rang her buzzer and she padded out in pink slippers and what my grandmother calls a housedress. When she saw me she crinkled up her eyes in a huge smile and started waving frantically before she'd even opened the door. "Hello! Hello! There you are!" she exclaimed. She had an accent (maybe Polish?). We started a slow descent upstairs. She stopped on one landing for a moment to exclaim, "your hair is very black!" Her apartment was small and clean and dim and though I didn't ask her, I had the feeling she'd lived there for decades. She brought me into the kitchen and pointed up to a lightbulb. "You can do that?" she asked. I said I could, no problem. I brought a chair over to the spot and she handed me an ancient lightbulb. I replaced the old bulb and when she flipped on the switch, only the dimmest light came out. "You need a brighter bulb!" I told her. She was unclear about what I meant. At least I think she was. "I'll be right back!" I promised her. That she understood. I ran out to a deli and bought a two pack of 100 watt bulbs. I'd propped the door open with a phonebook so she didn't have to walk down and up the stairs again. When I knocked, she took a minute to come to the door, and when she saw me she said, "Hello!" three more times. I climbed back up on the chair to change the bulb to a brighter one. She flipped the switch and 100 watts poured down on her. "Aaaaaaaaah! No, no, please!" she barked, squinting up at the light. Too much light. I put the dim bulb back in. There wasn't anything else that seemed to need doing in the apartment, though I did wash the two pans that were in the sink. Afterwards, she gave me a mug of milk. As I was leaving, she handed me a little paper bag and squeezed my hands. "Take it! Take it! I don't need!" she said. Which is how I ended up with three ancient maxi-pads.

#2: Leave a giant tip for someone. Submitted by Andrea, Park Slope resident and mother of Nicholas, 6 months old.

Stopping at a little sandwich place on third Avenue to get a drink, the staff was so sweet and pleasant that I decided this was the moment for the giant tip. I bought a fresh squeezed grapefruit juice and stuffed $14 into the tip cup. I wasn't sure if they had even seen me do it. I hoped they hadn't, in a way. There was an unexpected feeling of shame when I put it in, an almost patronizing feeling. They didn't know, after all, that $14 is a lot to me. I sat down inside to read the paper and drink my grapefruit juice. 20 minutes later, I realized two of them were standing next to the table, smiling down at me. "A nice thing for a nice thing" one of them said. Which is how I ended up with the beautiful little bouquet of wildflowers that's in the kitchen.