Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen

People here are pretty creative with their panhandling spiels. Obviously. You need a good narrative and a good gimmick to grab the attention of most cynical, iPod-sporting New Yorkers. There's the guy who imitates the train announcements and bells (his wife died in a fire ten years ago and he has three kids to support), the kids selling candy for their sports team, the mariachi bands, the veteran hobos who really work the crowd and make dirty come-ons at the female passengers.

And then there's this sort of recursive honesty that goes on: I'm not selling candy for a basketball team, I'm just trying to get some money. There's the guy with the sign that says he's collecting money for beer. Or the woman who says she's tired of prostitution. (Okay, that woman gets to me. I want to set her up with an apartment on Park Avenue.) Or the guy who plays bongos on the subway and says that he used to walk the streets with a gun, now he walks the streets with a drum. I always love that. The veiled threat of pointing out "Hey, I'm not out there beating people and robbing people and stabbing you in the fucking gut if you don't give me a dollar please?"

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