In-dependance

This past weekend we commemorated one of the great lives of the past few hundred years. One who's legacy lives on in thousands of individuals, to whom he spread his ideals and knowledge to bring greater meaning to their lives. That person, was none other than R' Shmuel Yaakov Weinberg Zatza"l, the previous Rosh Yeshiva of Ner Israel.

K, so I spent July 4 at Ner visiting friends there, and literally didn't remember that it was Independence Day until about Havdalah time. And it was the Shabbos before R' Weinberg's Yahrtzeit, so I learned a whole lot about a guy who I'd never heard of, in the form of forty-five minute speeches at all the meals during which we were apparently expected not to continue eating. Seemed like a nice guy.

But probably not my most memorable July 4. That had to be when I was sixteen, during the first vending summer. It's not exactly the highest class work, so you get to meet some interesting (/shady) people. I got a call on the afternoon of July 3 from my friend S asking me to go to Grant Park that night and sell glow-sticks with him. Apparently, he and a couple other of my friends were offered by an older vendor this incredible opportunity, but for one reason or another all the guys bailed except for S, who probably sensed the shadiness involved, and didn't want to go alone. I hadn't any other plans and Grant Park sounded like a cool place to be for fireworks, so I agreed, and as instructed brought an overnight back to hold the merchandise.

We spent about fifteen minutes trying to find our vendor in GP, but eventually we got the stuff and got to selling. Mine weren't going too quickly, perhaps because I just couldn't fathom how anyone in their right mind would spend $3 on a single glow-stick, even if it was 2 for $5. I guess you kinda have to believe in what you're selling. I was walking within 15-20 feet of S, selling on the other side, when a cop yelled him over. We had both suspected that it was probably illegal to sell anything in downtown Chicago without a permit, but figured it was a really slight risk. I decided that the cop didn't really care about me, because he was a lot closer to S, so I just continued walking. To which I heard, "HEY! Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Yeah, apparently cops don't like to be run away from.

I went to join S by the cop, who was wearing jeans and a tucked in short-sleeve shirt, and looking pretty scary to me, who knew this was how I was gonna not get into any colleges. He flashed his badge, asked us for permits, and told us they were getting all the illegal merchants. He pointed to my friend and told him to give up his merchandise. He turned to me and said "You- you're going down to the station. Just a slight misdemeanor." He told me to turn around, and put my hands behind my back. I could have sh*t myself. It was probably the scariest moment of my life.

We begged, told the cop I was an idiot who probably didn't deserve to live numerous times. In the end he had mercy, and just took my stuff away. I lost an overnight bag, but at least I didn't get raped in a jail cell. I counted my blessings. S and I went back to our vendor, collected our commission on what we sold, and ditched the fireworks, which we were no longer really in the mood for.

And we came out with a story. For a fairly good-two-shoed person, I now had an encounter with a cop that almost ended in handcuffs on my resume. Even better, it wasn't one that I had to put on a college application in the space where they ask you if you've ever been arrested, because I hadn't! I was kinda happy about the whole thing. It had some semblance of adulthood which seemed cool.

This summer has been mostly away from the parents' house, but I can't say it's felt very independent. My program put me up in an apartment so no rent bills, and I haven't done much extravagant cooking because I don't have a kosher oven. I've learned to grocery shop, but not much more. When you're seven hundred miles from home, however, there is a slightly better chance of needing to be able to cope on your own.

Like Saturday night. Motzei Shabbos my phone decided not to turn on. It continued to refuse to be turned on for the remainder of the drive back to College Park from Baltimore. Including the point at the end when I decided to take I495 South instead of West. Thereby missing my exit. (I should mention that even Google wasn't clear on these directions.) So I got a little lost in a foreign city at about 11:30 PM with no cell phone. I didn't get as far as the 'F' word, but I did get to 'S', so you could sense the freaking out going on in my mind.

Eventually I found my way back to the highway going the other way and made it back to College Park, but it wasn't exactly a thrilling experience. It was one of those times where I was really appreciating Chicago, where getting lost just means you have to find a place to turn around, because on the grid there are only four directions to go. (Granted I would not want to have to stop somewhere in Chicago at 12 AM and ask for directions. Not that I did that here, because y'know, I'm manly like that.)

In other words, being independent in the sense of being cell-phone less kinda sucks. I'm sure it has advantages in other areas, like say Israel, or the U.S. but I'm not sure I see the point of moving out just yet.