Many of us have moving stories. We've all had relatives, friends, ex-roommates, acquaintances and hangers-on who, over the years, have innocently asked us: “Hey, can you give me a hand moving this coming Saturday?” - or something like that. It's always “just a few boxes” or “it will be easy,” which in hindsight is laughable, as these assurances turn out to be anything but the truth. And if you sit down and compile, correlate, and compare all the moving horror stories you have experienced first hand, been in
A few years ago I had the experience that I can only describe as all your worst nightmares, all your most outrageous helping-so-and-so-move stories, all your worst fears regarding any of that rolled into one. And afterward I got pretty good at relating it all, in about a half and hour, which still had me speed-talking my way though the details, sometimes leaving the smaller things out. Universally when I finished my listeners would react the same way: “Oh...My...God....”
No, just because I am here too, and happen to be walking through the Quarter, and DON'T look like I slept in a dumpster last night doesn't mean I'm a god-damned tourist waiting to hand you money because I should feel sorry for your sad-face and open hand.