Sunday, March 24, 2013

Barkevious and Mischievous

This is the type of thing that probably only I consider humorous/intriguing/whatever but since I pay the lease on this space....well you know the rest.  Friday afternoon I hopped onto the Sports Illustrated web site to check out start times for the afternoon's early NCAA tournament games and stumbled across this piece.   Unless you are related to one of the young men whose name appears in it, the ranking of these forty individuals is likely of as little moment to you as it was to me....until I scrolled down to #15.  I do not pretend to know what type of player the kid pegged as the #15 prospect in this year's NFL draft is, but I know he has one of the coolest names ever - Barkevious Mingo.   

According to Wikipedia, his first name is derived from his mother Barbara's marriage of the first three letters of her name to "the equally random letters Kevious." (Wikipedia's words - not mine although 'tis hard to argue their point).    Wikipedia teaches us further that in 2009 his name won the "Name of the Year" award.  How does it not win every year?  He might have the best defensive football player's name ever.  If I still bothered to attend Giants games I would write to their GM and beg him to draft this kid.  The P.A. announcer at Met Life Stadium would get famous just saying his name aloud several times each home Sunday afternoon.  Spend a few seconds saying it aloud - wherever you are reading this - as you would if you were that guy and you shall know immediately of which  I speak.  

My final NCAA March Madness Bracket as the organizer of the Pool was over before it even got started.  I decided to venture outside of the box a bit and pick the University of New Mexico Lobos to win the National Championship.  I fell asleep Thursday night before they played Harvard.  Apparently they did as well.  Happiness is not spending the next three weeks tabulating the results of the other forty-seven participants in the Pool.  Of course, the good news is that since my Bracket is beyond busted I need not spend any time checking it and tracking how many points I might be picking up as the tournament moves along.  

I was still processing the ramifications of my latest bout of March Madness self-immolation when I reached the office on Friday morning.  I know not whether I am simply slowing down with age, trapped in a bit of a funk or something else altogether but Friday marked the fifth consecutive morning on which I slept right through my alarm.  Usually I am out the door and on the way to work by 4:00 a.m.  Every morning last week I was not "ass in seat" until 4:40 or 4:45, which put me in Parsippany at 5:10 or so as opposed to 4:30.  To you this might seem like nothing.  To me it made for quite a frustrating week.  

Anyway when I arrived at the office at or about 5:10 on Friday morning I was quite surprised to find a youngish-looking fellow sleeping in the vestibule between the building's outer double doors and the inner security doors that lead into the reception area.  He was wearing a green Army coat, dirty jeans and boots and was sleeping using his duffel bag as a pillow.  Open on the floor behind him was a paperback copy of a book written by the Dalai Lama.   My initial thought upon seeing him there was, "Holy shit - there is someone sleeping on the floor of the vestibule of the building!" (I never claimed to be capable of complex thought).  My second thought was that perhaps there was something "amiss" with this particular gent and that I should call the Parsippany Police Department to remove him from the premises.  

I ultimately discarded the second thought as unnecessary although I proceeded with what I consider to have been an sufficient modicum of caution.  When I entered the vestibule the sound of me in that rather tight space woke him up.  From a seated position on the ground/floor he told me his name (David) and how it was he came to be where he was (hitchhiking across the United States he had caught a ride to northern New Jersey with a trucker somewhere in Pennsylvania who had left him close to our office in the wee small hours of Friday morning).  He made no type of threatening gestures or movements.  He made no attempt to enter the building when I did so.  He simply asked me if he could sleep a bit longer.  Since my early-morning companion Lucy usually arrives between 6:15 and 6:30 I told him he could.  

Shortly after 6:00 a.m. - and before Lucy arrived - I went back downstairs.  He remained just where I had left him - sleeping curled up in a ball on the vestibule floor.  I woke him up and told him that it was time for him to go.  I sent him on his way with a travel mug of black coffee and a bottle of cold water from the mini-fridge in my office.  He thanked me for being nice to him, gathered up his stuff and walked out into the darkness carrying his mug of hot coffee in one hand and his paperback in the other.  

If you take the time every now and then to look around, you can see any number of interesting things....

-AK  

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