I met Peter at the park. He sat on the outstretched root of a shade tree, undeniably a seat suitable for old bones to rest. He was waiting with other homeless men and women for the food trucks to arrive. He sat in silence with another man while I watched from afar. The scene under the tree was inviting, and Peter seemed to be an unthreatening character, but I was shy. I battled back and forth with my introverted tendencies, and decided to walk over when a friend casually suggested that we approach them.
He seemed like a pensive man with few words to share, but I was taken aback by his openness. Peter is a cheeky little bugga with a mouth that moves a mile a minute, and has a stubbornness about him that's enough to make a nun swear. He has a million and a half stories, but loves to tell the same ones. They have been rehearsed, refined, reused, and polished to perfection. I'm convinced that he recites them in his sleep.
One of my favorites he told was about a night he had a tooth ache. His tooth had been bothering him for a awhile, and I guess this night the pain was bad enough to rely on his own insanity to remove it. He said that he just went in the bathroom and wiggled it back and forth with his fingers until he finally yanked it out. He opened his mouth wide to show me where it had been. With his finger still in his mouth he said, "That's nothing, I pulled this one out with a pair of pliers." He pointed to a hole towards the back of his mouth ."Had to use a little more force on that one."
I could only laugh at this crazy little man that I had found in the park. And my intrigue only encouraged him.
" Well my doctor said I needed to lose weight. I had to start somewhere." Oh dear was he something else.
I always looked forward to greeting him. He would notice me walking towards him and say "Alasky, you're back!" He created this nickname after learning that Malaysians liked to call me Alaska. He's a wise acre for sure.
We talked about travel, religion, war, and TV. He told me about how he cried like a baby during the series finale of M.A.S.H. He continued by letting me in on a little secret and explained how men pretend to be tough, but they're not. Then he told me that he's not afraid to admit that he's emotional. He was fascinated with philosophy, and it was almost enough to make me crazy. He was a mess of contradictions, and always thought that he had you stumped when you questioned his logic.
Every night I spent with Peter while he waited for his dinner exhausted me, but I wouldn't have spent my time any other way. I really liked him. He just wanted to talk, and I enjoyed listening.
