Fifty Cents for My Thoughts

On a narrow city sidewalk this beautiful spring morning, a masked man passed me by. As he made a beeline to the entrance of his apartment building, the six-feet social distancing decree proved impractical. I watched him as he put a key in the front-door lock and then it was my turn to pass him by with, I might add, a little more distance between us. He, though, didn’t immediately enter the building’s lobby and called over to me. “Do you smoke?” this mystery person inquired. “No,” I answered without breaking my stride.

I thought it a peculiar question for a normal day, but it was made more so coming from the Lone Ranger during a pandemic. But then it dawned on me: I think that was “Fifty Cents,” an annoying local who roams the area in the best of times—unmasked—panhandling. Fifty Cents is invariably well dressed—he’s not homeless or indigent—and asks passersby for fifty cents, although he expects more. I’ve seen him handed a buck and then hightail it—very literally—to a nearby convenience store to purchase lottery tickets.

If indeed Fifty Cents was that man in disguise, it confirms my suspicions that he has a place to live and in a nice building to boot. I have long suspected that Fifty Cents has some psychological disorder and assorted compulsions, like gambling and invading people’s personal spaces. I regularly give money to the down-and-out and—once upon a time or two—gave Fifty Cents a dollar. But having observed him through the years and experienced one-too-many close encounters, I’ve come not to like “Fifty Cents” very much. He gets on my nerves in good times and in bad.

So, if Fifty Cents was my man, a question remains on the question. Why did he ask me if I smoked, instead of his usual come-on? I can only hazard a guess that it was an initial volley of some sort—a leading question to open the door on the matter of fifty cents. I didn’t give him time to advance down that road and he didn’t pursue it.

Fifty Cents is no doubt facing a big dilemma. His in-your-face appeals were bad enough in the pre-coronavirus heyday of a few weeks ago. But now telling Fifty Cents to bug off is a matter of health and safety. Then again, it could have been somebody else under that mask, a guy merely looking to bum a cigarette. After all, these are strange times in which we are living. I never would have guessed at the beginning of this month that must-see TV would be watching Governor Cuomo’s daily news briefings.

(Photos from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)