I always knew I was a sinner, just not what kind... tonight I found out that I am indeed, a publican.For those of you not swamped in New Testament terminology from birth, a publican was basically a Jew in Old Testament times that did the dirty job of collecting taxes from his own people on behalf of the imposing Roman Empire... and often overcharging their own people to skim a little extra off the top. They were basically the IRS, but worse, because you couldn't hire a lawyer to fight them.
Tonight I became one with my publican chi, on accident.
A week ago, I realized I needed to upgrade my look a little bit. I had a light green "incase" backpack for my 17 inch Macbook Pro that I had used throughout college. This was great in college because it matched my vel-cro Vans "prison issue" sneakers, t-shirts, and my buzz cut, nevertheless, now that I am trying to peddle myself as a legitimate actor and talented artist/deep thinker, a green backpack no longer cuts it. "In-case" backpacks and pea-coats don't match, nevertheless, I still have my Macbook Pro and it is still essential to my existence, so a new bag was necessary.
I ended up purchasing a Ful Messenger Bag online. It's inspiration was the exact copy my room mate Catherine's "Public Enemies" bag, her father had gifted her after he worked on the Michael Mann movie. It fit my 17 inch laptop and had a much more artist and sophisticated look, so I copied it (rest assured I did not immediately resort to copycatting... I actually did take an acummulation of about 5 shopping hours over 2 days to look for the perfect bag, but all data collected, the Ful Public Enemies bag was the best, so I was given no other option).
I remembered my friend's wife, Alex Millar, mentioned that an audition coach of her's said she wanted to see her enter an audition with a little "funk" so I decided to funk up my laptop bag purchase. The most artistic customer who left a review of the assorted Ful messenger bags online commented on how he liked the red version of the bag so I plugged in my credit card numbers into cyberspace and demanded a red Ful messenger bag in return.
Two days later, it arrived. One of it's first jobs was to carry my laptop and a glass jar of coins I had accumulated over the past six months of living in New York's Cash-friendly culture to the Performing Arts Library because I needed the coin (look at my awesome gansta reference to solid currency) for photocopies. Unfortunately, as I went to empty my bag tonight, I found the glass jar broken and the coins spilled throughout the largest compartment of the messenger bag. So began the debacle of extracting glass, coins, and whatever debris is found at the bottom of a New York hopeful's bag.
This is where the publican came out. I figured I should at lest organize the coin (I used it again!) into cups in case I wanted to stick it to the "coinstar" man and wrap my own coins in rolls and take it to the bank for deposit myself instead of surrendering my hard earned 3 percent to coinstar's mechanical empire. So, while seperating pennies from quarters and removing glass shards from the pads of my fingers, I organized the coins into 4 plastic cups, and then vacuumed out the bag with obsessive compulsive attention to detail, all the while envisioning the bloody screams and lacerations I was responsibly avoiding with my thoroughness.
My German-photographer-friend-turned-temporary-roomate, Martin Funke, commented "you look like a millionaire!" which did cause a moment of reflection. I do think that we are missing out on something not using solid money, especially coins, anymore. The purchase of my red Ful bag, could have been such a more amplified and fulfilling experience if I had laid down a hard earned doubloon or stack of silver dollars for it, instead of exchanging a set of 16 digits that change weekly due to misplacement or identity theft with an unseen cyber-merchant in who-knows-where. I am talking more than just a return to the Gold Stndard here people. I think our electronic transfer of funds it just another example of how technology is robbing us of yet another simple and satisfying physical act.
I digress.
Martin's exclamation of my apparent millionaire-ism (is that a word?) prompted a competition. After all, it is a saturday night, and what better way to finish of a publican cleaning, "guys-night-in," than with a solid gentleman's wager?! So we cleared off the table and placed our wagers vocally. He bet there was 15 dollars in the cup and I used my best, "The Price is Righ,t" strategery and undercut his bid with 12 dollars. Soon he dumped out the change and began piling the quarters into small stacks. At first he started stacking them into piles of 5 because he is accustomed to Euro coins which come in denominations of 20 cents, a practice I should have selfishly let him continue, because once he dumped the coins on the table I knew right away that there was more than 12 dollars in front of us, but maybe ignorant stacks of 5 quarters could sway the final count dishonestly in my favor... after all... I am a publican tonight!
The knee jerk reaction to lovingly correct a friend's mistake beat my publican side to the punch though and I soon scooped up the stacks and showed him they were 25 cent pieces, not 20 cent Euro coins. After the recount we realized we had more than 20 dollars in quarters in my possession. Good thing we had made an outcome-less gentleman's wager or I would of had to take out a mean bag of trash tonight! Also, if you are feeling a little bit jealous of the revelry Martin and I survived tonight, don't be... It will be taking it's toll on us soon enough.
Until next time, my friends.
