All I Wanted Was Good News In Print Form
This is the point of which my newspaper addiction has gone too far. As I had mentioned yesterday in some atrocious article, the New York Times don’t like delivering newspapers on the southeast side of town. I wouldn’t blame them, but that means that I get no paper when I wake up in the morning. Although I have gone 3 months now without it, just the fact that I can’t have it eats me up inside. I wonder sometimes what happened to the little boy in the goofy cap that stood on street corners, yelling for us to “read all about it”. Well, I know now that the kid grew up, got a divorce, became bitter towards the world of news, and died alone, never making it to Hollywood or Vegas or wherever the fuck he wanted to go.
And so this story starts when I wake up. Immediately, I get punched in the face with the notion that I need breakfast. So, with 2 hours before I have to leave for class, I go to a diner to get some food and inspiration. The inspiration doesn’t come, so what I end up writing was consequently uninspired. But as I looked around, everyone was reading a newspaper. Some with the Grand Rapids Press, others with USA Today. This is because both respective papers have a machine sitting outside. I think about making the venture outside to grab one, but no. I need to hold out. I need my Times.
So I leave a bad tip to the waitress that probably deserved it and run to the gas station across the street. They must have the Times, right? No. Well, what about Walgreens? Nope. And now I’m stuck behind a traffic jam convoy filled with garbage trucks and bulldozers. I make an illegal turn and head back home to grab my things. At this point I spent way too much time trying to get inspiration and a fucking paper (that at this point, I am more than determined to obtain). I grab some change off my dresser, just in case the paper costs more than a dollar. First stop is another gas station: no dice. Grocery store: no dice. Just USA Today. Everywhere I go it’s USA Today. The image of the paper mocks my existence. Get caught in traffic again…for no apparent reason, just people driving slow. Some people need to go back to Massachusetts. I finally make it to the one place I knew I should’ve gone to in the first place, but was utterly and completely out of my way: Elliots News. Of course! A newsstand! Something that should be in every neighborhood, but it isn’t, it’s just tucked away in one of the busiest parts of town! I barge in, saying fuck it to the meter, and I find my new mint copy of today’s New York Times. This hard piece of journalism can be mine for 2 dollars.
And I have a buck 65.
So now I become a beggar. I try to barter with the clerk, tell im my story and maybe he would show some sympathy. Well, apparently, newsstands only make 9 cents per paper, so that was out of the question. So I start hustling customers. They all claim to have no cash, even though the place is cash-only. So I do what any news starved broke man would do. I buy a USA Today for a buck. And this doesn’t sound like such a bad thing, but it was actually the most heartbreaking moment of the month. And as I leave the store there is, of course, a traffic officer about to write me a ticket. I scream out “come on!”, run into my car, and scram off into the mid-morning haze.
So the story is over, right?
I have to be in Allendale by 1. The bus takes 45 minutes in the daytime. It is 12:14. I get into the parking garage where I am stuck behind an old lady that is obviously not a student and has no business being in a student lot. All the way up to the 4th floor I go, I leap down the stairs and see no one at the bus stop. Great. I must’ve just missed the one to get me there on time. As I walk to the stop the bus approaches, and since no one is there, and I am across the street, the bus just breezes through the stop. So now I’m late. And 5 minutes later the bus comes, and it’s crammed full. So now I have to stand.
And what is the one thing that you can’t do while standing in a moving bus?
Read the newspaper.
So now this story is moot, I was late for class, and I now have a copy of USA today in my backpack that will never get read. This is what I get for craving a newspaper. This is what I get for waking up late. This is what I get for moving to the southeast side of town in a red house with tombstones in the front yard.
Most of all, this is what I get for not having any ounce of luck coming to me.