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Theft by Finding - David Sedaris

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“I’m sorry.”<br />

The guy had a shoulder-length mane of carefully styled hair and wore a pair of sweatpants with the<br />

back torn out. I thought I was seeing fur underwear until I realized it was his hairy ass showing. “You<br />

almost hit the ba<strong>by</strong>,” he repeated.<br />

I said, “Almost. But I didn’t, right?”<br />

He was just looking for a fight. In fact, I’d been nowhere near the ba<strong>by</strong>. I watched from behind as<br />

he got in line and then listened as he accused the cashier of overcharging him. The manager was<br />

called and I wondered how anyone could go out in public like that, with his ass hanging out. I should<br />

be OK with it, but it’s never the ass I want to see.<br />

June 21, 1994<br />

New York<br />

They were boarding my flight to Indianapolis yesterday when a Russian man in a wheelchair<br />

rolled up, accompanied <strong>by</strong> his family. “Can’t he walk?” the gate attendant asked.<br />

When she realized that none of them spoke English, she repeated herself, only louder. “Can’t he<br />

walk at all?”<br />

As I passed the man, I noticed that his pant legs were empty, that he either was an amputee or had<br />

been born this way. “Well, could he walk if he tried?” the gate attendant, who was not nearly as<br />

observant as I am, asked.<br />

July 1, 1994<br />

New York<br />

Today I cleaned for the Rs. They’re nice people but incredible slobs. Every week I find something<br />

new the son has decided to use as an ashtray. Today it was a paper cupcake jacket. I mean, really.<br />

What’s wrong with a saucer? Another thing they’re big on is dropped change. This afternoon I found<br />

pennies in one bathtub and dimes in another.<br />

July 9, 1994<br />

New York<br />

It’s hot and icky here so Hugh and I went to the air-conditioned Museum of Television and Radio<br />

and watched TV all day. First came an hour-long tribute to women in comedy. During this we sat<br />

behind three elderly women, one of whom kept turning around and scolding me for resting my knees<br />

on the back of her chair. I did this once. That was it, I swear, yet she kept nagging me. A fly could<br />

have landed on this woman’s seat back and she would have felt it. The third time she turned around I<br />

told her to fuck off. I don’t think she heard me, but still I was ashamed for having said it.

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