Naked

That's how I felt today: naked.

Ever since I found out this morning, while walking towards my office building that I had forgotten my wallet at home, I felt naked.

I had to go back to my car to dig for a whole collection of quarters, nickels and dimes to pay for the parking space, good thing that I always throw all change in the ashtray; which by the way I don't fucking know why cars come equipped with such device: an ashtray. Everybody throws the cigarette butts out onto the street, as well as the ashes, because they don't want their cars smelling like ashtrays. Try stop smoking and poisoning everybody around you with those cancer sticks for starters; and if you're so helplessly addicted and there's nothing your sorry ass can do about it, trash your car and not the whole city. But more on cigarettes later [I hate cigarettes].

Back on the topic of this post: leaving my wallet at home. And the security guard in my office building.

I always carry my Speed Pass™ in my wallet, and even though you're suppose to hang it from your neck like warriors use to do it back in the days with ears cut off from their enemies, I always keep mine in my wallet. Every morning I have to remember to get my car keys, pen, wallet, cell phone, condoms [you never know], to shave, shower, pray the lord and read the Bible [hahaha], stop on red lights and go in green lights, make and drink my morning coffee, eat my very own blend of Corn Flakes and Musli with a diced apple in it, wear deodorant, feet powder and a couple drops of my colone, check my e-mails and read the news; and if on top of all that I have to remember to hang my Speed Pass™ from my neck, I'm sure one day my brain will short-circuit and I may end up wearing a condom to work.

An uninformed observer would say that there's nothing wrong with it, but let me give you an insight here. There is not, has never been, and there would never be enough One Hundred Dollars Bills printed on this planet and its surroundings to make me procreate with any of the females on my floor. I would cut my manhood off [palm tree, coconuts and all] and would put them in a jart like eunuchs use to do back in Imperial China times, before I use it with one of the females that work with me.

As I walk into the building, my brick-size cell phone in one hand, shirt freshly pressed, black shoes polished, a smile splashed across my face and testosterone going through the roof due to the lack of female companionship, I spot Earl, the security guard. Monsieur Earl is from some western African country [Nigeria would be my best guess] and he knows pretty much all the capitals in the world. We had an exchange few months ago and I was really surprised by his knowledge. Being the smartass that I am, I also know a good share of the world capitals, plus rivers, oceans, seas, lakes, peaks and stuff like that, but this guy was really good. He got all my questions right but one, the last one that I asked him; and I got almost all his questions right, but he kept asking me more [the bastard].

He was at a desk right by the entrance to the elevators, where you have to use your Speed Pass™ for the first time. So I approached him, we shoke hands, did some small talk, and I told him that I've forgotten my Speed Pass™, and that if he could let me in. He looked at me like if I was Osama Bin Laden's little brother, the black sheep of the family, the real bad one, the one voted in the yearbook as the more likely to end up blowing up shit; Earl sent me the kind of look that gives away all the possible suspicion a human being can come up with in a simple look. He then proceeds to ask me again what happen to the wallet and what was the relationship with my Security Pass [that's the technical name, but I like to call it Speed Pass™!]. "I just forgot that bitch at home man, let me in -was my very polite reply. He looked towards the front desk, where visitors get their daily Speed Passes™ and I felt he was an inch closer to tell me to go there and narrate the story to a real ape dressed as a security guard. But he ends up unlocking the middle gate, the one used by people with an extremely wide bone structure and who's ass could easily get stuck in any of the other narrower gates [in other words, all the fat people working in my building].

Once I pressed the up arrow on the screen and began my long wait for the fucking elevator, I started thinking what exactly went through Earl's mind when I asked him to let me in without my Speed Pass™. Did he think that I was gona torch down the place and that not wanting to leave any "paper trial" I had left my Speed Pass™ at home? Or that I had gotten fired the day before and I was gona take out as many co-workers as possible with my Victorinox knife?

I already made it once all the way to the front page of a newspaper, and if a second time comes, I hope it wouldn't be for something snapping inside me and going in a killing spree. When I was seventeen years old I was part of a one-year exchange student program and was sent to a little and miserable tiny town in Eastern Kentucky. That was the first time I set foot in the US. The news of a red haired boy from South America coming to town spreaded fast and a week after my arrival, my smiley face appeared in the front page of the local newspaper. Back in those days the only English words I was able to mumble were "helow", "haw'r yu", "zank yu" and "pie-pie"; but it didn't stop the overweight reporter from grilling me with a hundred questions and coming up with a loooong fucking article.

Maybe in Security Guard School they teach them not to say yes right away and to try to look like if they were really keeping the place secure. Even if is such a little thing like one of the "usual guys" forgetting his Speed Pass™. Besides if he would've told me to go talk to the other guys at the front desk, they would've asked me for my driver's license or a "valid photo ID" in order to give me a Speed Pass™ for the day and to have a record in case the place burns down and they need to identify a very sun tan red haired guy; but all my IDs were sitting, undisturbed, on my desk at home having the day off. So when I made it to my floor I decided not to go out for lunch later in the day but to ask for a favor *hugh* from one of my co-workers to bring me some sort of sandwich or whatever. If I had gone out, then I would've had to go to the desk and blahblahblah.

I'm actually thinking exactly what you're thinking: that this post is just a whole bunch of bullshit putted together on the simple fact that I forgot my wallet today.

Yes it is. Peace out!