What Does "Acaloo" Mean, Anyways?

Yesterday's "playbook" had to be delved into while I was doing my deep breathing exercises during the afternoon, which was sunny and warm enough, at 55 degrees for me to sit in the sun for about a half hour with my shirt peeled off and around my shoulders.

A sunny Sunday attracts bikers to Bourbon

An occasional chilly breeze would rattle through my rib cage, a harbinger of the coming cold front that the weather professionals had forecast.

By the time I had everything ready to go, it was about 5:30 in the evening and the temperature had already gone down to about 48. It was supposed to be 37 degrees by about 1 o' clock in the morning. I would have to get out there and play until the thermometer hit about 43 and hope that the warmth that I generated from playing as hard as I could would carry me as far into the low 40's as possible.

It wasn't lost upon me that the Wim Hof Method that I have embarked upon includes cold showers for the mortals and all out ice baths in the morning for the Ice Men (and I don't mean the immigration and customs agents).

I took the 4 one dollar chips from Ceasar's Casino with me, along with the negative CoVid test card that I had gotten on Thursday. The card was good for 72 hours, ostensibly, and it was about 78 hours old when I put it in my pocket. Were the casino security people going to split hairs and tell me that I couldn't go in and cash the chips because of that 4 hour or so expiration?

I also took one of the Starbucks gift cards that the Lidgley's had included in the Christmas parcel that they sent; thinking that I could buy somebody their coffee off it in exchange for a lesser amount of cash.

I really only had to come up with some food for Harold. My options there were to:

A: knock on a few doors around Sacred Heart asking for cans of tuna from my neighbors.

B: Stop and see my friend Patrick, basically complaining about how cold it felt after only a few minutes outside and to ask him if he had anything a cat could eat.

C: Shoplift a can of Friskies from the Family Dollar

D: Hang around Starbucks seeing if I could find someone in line to buy something who was holding cash and ask them if they would do the gift card trade thing.

E: Cash in the chips at the casino (provided they didn't gig me for having a negative test card that was 4 hours "expired") and then use some of that 4 dollars for cat food.

F: Just go straight to the Lilly Pad, set up and start playing, and hope that that would solve all the problems, the way it has been doing without fail for the past 14 years.

I thought about how there is such a thing as "uncomfortable" cold and that I would just have to be uncomfortable if I wanted to feed Harold; so I pedaled on, towards the casino.

"Acting Like Troglodytes Out There"

I stopped at Patrick's house, who let me in and told me a horror story about having been pushed over on his tricycle by a random black man who was walking along the sidewalk having a loud argument with the invisible man.

Patrick thought he might have had ear buds in and was arguing over the phone with someone, but realized as he approached that he was just yelling at nobody. He moved his tricycle out of the guy's way, letting him pass; but after the guy passed, he turned back and then made a run at the guy, pushing him over and breaking a couple of his ribs and injuring one of his hands.

Patrick was the picture of victim-hood, as he sat there wincing in pain every time he tried to move to pick up his lighter or adjust himself in his chair.

Along with being injured in the random attack ("It's crazy out there; people are acting like troglodytes!" he said) he also had just gotten a letter from the Social Security people telling him that he somehow owed $13,000 and that all of his future checks would be taken from him until that was paid off.

I should have asked to see the letter, as, maybe I could have made some sense out of it and found a different interpretation of it; or even recognized it as being a scam, perpetuated by someone. "See, the 'official' seal is missing a couple feathers in the Bald Eagle..." type of thing...

He passed me a small roach of weed that I managed to fill my lungs off of one time. After holding that in for a minute, I was pretty baked and his tales of woe took on a deeper and more symbolic perspective. I started to wonder just how "crazy" it had gotten out there, and knew that I had better grab my stuff and head out towards the Lilly Pad, with a stop at the casino first, rather than sit there as the walls closed in around me and the outside became more looming and threatening in my imagination.

At the casino I locked up my bike and went to the kiosk where the security people, a young skinny black kid and an older black women were checking people's Covid status, mostly by using apps on people's phones.

I explained that I had gotten the chips in my tip jar, with the guitar on my back corroborating that; and that I only wanted to go to the cashier's window and exchange them; I wouldn't be in there long.

After the younger one initially said: "These are only good for 72 hours," the older one looked at my card.

"I got it on Thursday, late in the afternoon, so it is really just like 76 hours now..."

The lady told me "You're good," and let me into the place.

There was actually a small group of people who were applauding those, including myself, as they entered the place. I could only think that this must be because they assume that those people have gotten the experimental genetically modified vaccine that's side effects remain to be seen.

They were applauding me for having gotten tested for the abominable snowman, not for having gotten the jab(s). I almost felt like announcing that to the group of people. They were trying to make me feel good for having done my civic duty, it their minds.

As I looked around the casino, there were people in various stages of masking; the staff, of course all had tightly fitting masks that looked to be of the same cloth. But, some of the patrons sat at the slot machines with their noses hanging out, and I saw a couple people with no masks at all!!

I decided, out of gratitude for the lady having forgiven the 4 hour lapse on my test card, to at least pull my bandana over my face, but I kept pulling it down to take a breath of fresher air every so often. "Will work for my own carbon dioxide, and an hourly wage..." I said to a guy who was behind me in the cashier's line, referring to what all the casino staff had signed up for.

He might have been smiling at my jest behind his mask, I don't know.

And, in fact, that is the greatest harm that this pandemic is inflicting upon humanity in my opinion; the cloaking of human expression and stifling of the non verbal communication that the masks "mask." 

I mean the guy could have been scowling in total non appreciation of my little joke about the carbon dioxide, and that might have warned me not to press the issue further, with any more jokes, as the line of people inched forward towards the cashiers.

I couldn't resist, though, and as I rattled the 4 chips in my hand, said "I wonder if they are purposely slowing the line down to give people a chance to consider laying their chips back down and going 'double or nothing,' instead of proceeding to the window to cash them in..."

He murmured something slightly positive sounding that made me think there might be at least a wisp of a smile behind the cloth.

I got my 4 dollars in cash from a slightly amused cashier who might have been smiling as I told her that I had gotten the chips in my tip jar and had been holding them "for a minute," using the guitar on my back to illustrate the story. "But now I'm down to them, if I want to feed my cat and get a half pint of brandy, to stay warm out there..."

Indeed, I felt pretty happy and grateful as I headed for The Unique Grocery, where I set aside a dollar so I would be able to get Harold a can no matter what happened at the Lilly Pad, then told the guy behind the register: "I have 3 dollars; well, 3 dollars and ten cents (I had found a dime on the ground). Can I get 3 shots of something?"

Tonight's post football watching weather

The guy, who has been there for years and who has been alternately rude and friendly to me, placed 3 shots of Takka vodka on the counter and told me: "3 dollars." So that's the cheap man's way out at the Unique Grocery, I thought. It has been about 4 years since I've had to go in there bargain hunting.

I did a half a shot off one of the bottles (resetting a 14 day stretch of "sobriety") and then unlocked my bike and began to ride down Royal Street. Still baked off Patrick's joint and with a half shot of vodka in me, I felt like Mr. Moderation; a little bit of everything in me; Covid negative and looking for snipes on the ground as I rode. I felt happy and grateful.

People were walking stiffly and communicating things like "Whew!" and "Hoo!" in lieu of actual words, which all said the same thing in the universal language: "It's cold!"

For, it might have been about 45 degrees as I set up my stuff. 

The second half of the first shot of Takka actually had the warming effect upon me which is I guess part of the reason that Russians have traditionally used vodka to numb the cold of St. Petersburg winters. I didn't really feel like drinking the stuff, but rather felt like it was kind of a security blanket in the pocket of my jacket. No matter what the night produced, I would always be able to slug down the couple shots and assume a "devil may care" attitude.

Looking Towards Lilly's

And, so I was able to play just fine and had peeled down to a tee shirt for the first hour that I played, when only a single dollar bill went into my jar. 

I was forgetting how early I was, having started at about 6:45 PM, after the Patrick stop and the casino one. 

I hadn't been able to bring myself to go in Starbucks to try to trade gift card money for cash. The prospect of that made me feel too much like a skeezer; fueled by the paranoia that comes with good weed like Patrick's.

I was feeling the euphoria of that one hit the entire night, which lasted until about 9:45, when I started having trouble playing a C major chord because of cold fingers.

There were a couple 5 dollar bills, which came when I was playing my best, and so focused that I hadn't even noticed anyone dropping them in the jar, even though it sits 2 feet in front of me; I must close my eyes a lot or be able to have them open yet not see anything; like a person who is looking at a TV but so deep in thought that he isn't actually "watching" it....

I ran and got a shot of Fireball at the Elysian Market, where I also picked up a couple cans for Harold; one regular Friskies, and one "Fancy Feast," as kind of a treat for him.

That came to $4.50, and then I hit Unique's for a can of Heineken, where I found out that the quarter that I had paid back had been registered with the cashier who had let me slide on it. In fact, as soon as he had come in to work he was informed that "'Acaloo*' paid back the quarter," he told me.

I thought it pretty cool that, with all the madness that goes on in that store, it is newsworthy to them when I make good on a debt. I think that might be because I am one of the few people who has been going in there for 11 years who has never stolen from there and who always pays back what is borrowed out of whatever he makes busking. It's not the amount (.25¢) but the principle. I think that, should I ever become dishonest, it might be seen as a sign that the whole world has gone mad; so I made it a point to pay back the quarter; and a good thing it was, as the whole staff seemed to have heard the news that I did.

I get a sense of "community" from all the people that I've been seeing regularly over the past 12 years, and that might be even more valuable than I realize. Just the fact that "the karaoke guy" who was on a street corner busking gave me a look that said: "We're the dedicated ones, out here on a 45 degree night," made me feel good. Sure, I had to be out there or my cat would have no food, but at least I was out there, instead of stealing a can out of the Family Dollar.. 

I made 15 bucks before the temperature had dipped to probably about 40 degrees and I started missing notes. By then, I had put my sweater and jacket back on and was playing with that encumbrance (the extra layers push the guitar away from my body just enough to change the angle of everything; but that is something I thankfully got used to through all the cold weather playing I've done. It's probably like if Dale Earnhardt had to drive a different car in a race; it takes some getting used to but the gas and brake pedals are basically in the same places... 

*"Acaloo" is the nickname given to me by the Ethiopian staff at the Unique Grocery; I'm assuming it is a term of endearment in their Amharic tongue; but will have to Google it; or maybe one day ask them: "What does 'Acaloo' mean, anyways?"