We stopped by at a quarter past twelve in the morning to pump petrol at a local kiosk, battling through the splitting migraine i got out of the car to a rather interesting scene. Next to me, filling up their tanks as well were an old ice cream seller whose face has seen far to many sleepless nights of living from hand to mouth, simply dressed in a polo tee and shorts he halted his rickety motocycle and with unremarkable grace he grabbed the cheapest pump and started to fill up his tank.
On the other side of the pump stood a ferrari f430 - unwavering stature it held its ground. The Pump, the innocent bystander. It was late and there was only the cashier on duty for that night. Out came a middle aged man in obvious disbelief that he had not been served yet, he paced around in front of his car seeking attention to be given to him, all the while, with the old man filling up his tank upon the backdrop of a vehicle that costed more than he could ever have imagined. Finally after blowing his trumpet for a good 3minutes the cashier came out to serve him. The whold world had to stop just for a middle aged man who had a face of a decapitated snail, a pot belly and a very bad sense of dressing.
Just then Jaisie stuck her head out of the car and i told her to observe the scene and told her how i felt about the whole incident. A man living from hand to mouth, clearly uninterested in such a performance machine. A man living from hand to material possessions, postering for all the attention in this world for his performance machine. Guess who finished first? You've guessed it, the old ice cream man who then proceeded to pack and reorganize his whole livelihood diagionally infront of the ferrari.
i turned to jaisie and said, "its no wonder that man needed a ferrari to make him look better, because without it, he's nothing" - no looks, no dignity to eat humble pie, crippled by the fact that he needs an army to serve him.
And we just smiled at each other, feeling grateful to have each other.
