'The Orphans Are Counting on You'

In a recent post, Color. Me. BLAH. recounts a brush with a couple of con artists one dreary (just jammed that adjective in there for effect) night in Boston. In an ill-advised act of kindness all too familiar to the Park Street Rambler, she willingly handed over some cash despite the certainty she was being scammed.

She writes:

"They were out for dinner. Their car got towed. They needed $20 to get a train home so they could go get the car. (What train costs $20? I don't know. Stay with me here.) The woman had four teeth and had clearly spent too much time in the sun as a youth (which, from what I could tell, was a very long time ago). The gentleman was a little more put together but was wearing a Starter jacket. He also claimed he was a chef at the Legal Seafood in the airport. Chefs don't lie! He actually validated it by saying, "you probably think this is a con, but it's not." What a ridiculous line. Who would possibly fall for that? This girl.

"I tried to resist it. In my head, I even start to think 'this is such a con,' but out comes my wallet. I justify it afterwards by thinking, 'Hey, maybe these people needed this money more than I do right now....maybe they are in a dire situation and aren't just con artists...maybe they have a baby who needs formula?' Probably not. The more likely story is that I just enabled a drug habit. Still gives me the warm fuzzies though, I helped someone!"

Sadly, the Park Street Rambler can relate. For some reason, I was cursed with a gullibility so profoundly stupid that, like my counterpart, I fall for this nonsense even though I know it's a scam. I'm the idiot who says, "That Bob of Bob's Rip-Off Car Dealer is such a nice guy!"

Anyway, one night, I was headed to Rite Aid. This was in upstate New York, so there are like four on every corner sharing parking lots with a Stewart's. Anyway, this shabbily dressed man approaches me looking like one of the Others on Lost.

He tells me he's a bus driver for bunch of orphans on their way to the hospital to get emergency kidney transplants. Apparently, the bus (which is nowhere in sight) was struck by an errant S.C.U.D. missile that had been searching for a target since the first Gulf War.

To the bus driver's chagrin, the rocket had taken out their gas tank while they were cruisin' down I-890. But, with the exception of the tank and the bus driver's cell phone, which was lost to the secondary explosion, the bus remained intact. All it needed was a new gas tank, some super unleaded octane and a fresh coat of paint. The poor bus driver just needed about $20 from me to make it happen at like 9:30 p.m.

I was a little surprised that not a single soul had a quarter to call his charitable organization or the ER to get some help, but then again, who was I to judge? So, I quickly reached into my wallet and pulled out the $20. "Here you go, kind sir," I said with a joy that caused my heart to grow to the size of 10 Park Street Ramblers, plus two.

I sure hope they made to the hospital in time.

In an effort to be transparent, I should note that some of the above events have been exaggerated for the purposes of comedy, but it's all based on a true story. What I can't quite wrap my mind around is how we can be so easily duped. Sometimes, I think my altruistic hardwiring short circuits my better sense.

Let me know if you can relate.