Amerikai Magyar Hírlap, 2006 (18. évfolyam, 1-50. szám)

2006-09-08 / 35. szám

Hungarian Journal Second Chances BY SUSAN JANCSO Rosie was sitting in a sidewalk café in Paris, or the next best thing to it: the buffet at Paris Las Vegas. She enjoyed the onion soup and the roast duck and the blueberry crepes and the walnut bread and the many kinds of cheeses. But almost as much as she appreci­ated the great food, she delighted in the décor, the atmosphere, the authentic mood of the place. The cobblestones, the gray slate roofs and the store signs, the colorful bottles of homemade preserves and the earthenware roosters on the glass countertop, one red and one black, heads held high, with their beaks open to crow. Of course she couldn’t eat all that she had put on her plate, no matter how good every­thing looked. She didn’t really like shrimp and seafood in gene­ral, but the bouil­labaisse caught her eye and she did not resist. The rare roast beef, with the blood oozing out at the top, was another mistake, but who cares? All she had to do was leave it on the plate, push the plate aside and get her­self a new one, full of new delica­cies of which she can eat what she likes and trash the rest. She went a little overboard with the desserts as well. She should not have taken that fudge brownie with the raspberry sauce after the crepes and the flan and the chocolate mousse. She should have known better. And the second cup of coffee she asked for to wash down the surplus food, she didn’t need that either. But it didn’t matter, nobody scolded her for being wasteful, this was the American way, and she loved it! In any case, it was better to sit in a restaurant and stuff her face than to be outside in the casino and play the machines. In fact, she was saving about two dollars a minute, just sitting there nibbling at her food. A hundred and twenty dollars an hour, almost a thousand in an 8-hour workday - that’s how much she would lose, and it was a modest estimate, because she had seen a hundred-dollar bill go down the drain in less than 3 minutes. Rosie was not a big-time loser, but she had never hit a real jack­pot either. What usually happened was that the winnings and the losses evened out, and she went home from Vegas with almost the same amount of money she had started with. (ALMOST is the key word here!) She had always gotten her money’s worth out of the slot machines - until now. On this trip, she just seemed to feed the hungry machines with no tangible results, not even a pair of cherries that would give her a free turn of the wheel. She was down to the last hun­dred-dollar bill she had. Broke but not defeated. She would put it in a sure-bet machine and double it or triple it in no time at all. There were these penny machines with the British theme, with real nice extra jackpots. If you hit a Big Ben on the first line and the last line, the bronze fellow started to beat the hours, one, two, three, five, seven, with appropriately DUNA Travel 8530 Holloway Dr. #102 W. Hollywood, CA 90069 SPECIÁLIS ÁR LAX-BUD-LAX $566.-tól +TX. az ár szeptember 3-tól érvényes Információért hívják ZSUZSÁT TEL: (310) 652-5294 FAX: (310) 652-5287 1-888-532-0168 increasing bonuses, and if you got up to twelve beats, you got the jackpot. She had gotten quite a few of them last night. The amount of the jackpots differed, they started at 50 and increased as you fed more and more money into it. There was one that was up to $147, she would go for that one. It’s bound to give sometime soon, can’t hold on to the money forever. The Big Bens came and went, but never in the right combina­tion, and even when she got the beats started, she never got higher than five beats. The machine simply wouldn’t give. She told herself, perhaps when the jackpot passes the $150 mark, but it was up to 155 and still nothing happened. She was afraid to leave the machine even to go to the bathroom, for fear that someone would walk up to it at pocket HER jackpot on the first pull. But in the end, she was too weary and disap­pointed and plain exhausted, so she gave up and went upstairs to sleep. She hated the thought of waking up the next morning with not a penny in her pocket and having to pack and fly home and feel like a fool. She hated to be a loser. She looked out at the vast expanse of the Las Vegas Strip, with its myriad lights and attractions, and false promises. Her last thought before falling asleep was, “I”ll make up for this someday.” * * * The English Page of the Hírlap can serve as a bridge between the non-Hungarian-speaking members of the family and the community. Use it to bring people to­gether! Subscribe to the Hírlap! Advertise your business in the Hírlap! If any questions or sug­gestions, please call (323) 463-6376 Rosie woke up to a strange sound in her ears. It took her some time to realize it was the chattering of her own teeth. She tried to sit up in the bed, but there was no bed. She was lying on the ground, on the cold concrete of the street. What street? What city? Where was she? What kind of crazy nightmare was this? Her stomach was growling too. How could that be, after the plentiful dinner she had last night? It just didn’t make sense. She lifted one shaky hand and pressed it to her eyes, to clear his vision. Now she could see better, but what she saw really scared her. For instead of her pretty nightgown, she was wearing tat­tered rags, and her arm had only skin and bone, like a skeleton. It was dark all around, but she felt rather than saw a pair of eyes looking at her. “Who’s there?” The voice that answered was warm and friendly. So warm her teeth stopped chattering, as she began to discern the owner of the voice. She was wearing a waitress uniform. “I am the good fairy who watches over you.” “Than you do a lousy job, because I don’t feel good at all.” “Feeling good is not always equivalent with being good.” “Would feeling bad make me a better person?” “It just might”. Rosie started rubbing her eyes again, hoping to wake up in a more familiar setting, but the fairy said, “It’s no use. You are here for good. This is your life now.” “It is not my life! What is this place and how did I get here?” “This is a special place in hell for the wasteful. You got here because of all the things you wasted. All the food and the money and the time and the potential.” Images of yesterday started to flash through Rosie’s mind. “I was in Las Vegas. 1 lost money. I threw away food.” “You know how many chil­dren are starving in the world? How many die of starvation every single day? You know how many lives that last hundred-dollar bill of yours could have saved?” “I’m so sorry! I never thought of that. I thought it was mine to waste.” “Waste is a crime, and now you are being punished for it.” “But I don’t want to stay here and be poor and cold and hungry! Oh, if only I could start it over, I would do things so differently!” “Are you asking me for some­thing, Rosie?” “Yes, dear Fairy, I ask you to let me start over.” “Very well then. I’ll give you a second chance. Let’s see what you do with it.” Rosie felt as if a heavy curtain had fallen between her and the rest of the world, and she fell into a deep dark hole where she did not see or hear or feel. * * * The cold surface of the tabletop touching her forehead suddenly woke her. She found herself slumped over the dinner table at the Paris, with uneaten food all around her. A big smile lit up her face. She was back! Now she could show that she had learned her lesson. Oh how good that the busboy hadn’t picked up the plates yet! She is going to eat every last bit of what her eyes had wanted and her stomach couldn’t take. For the starving children of Africa! She is never again going to waste another bite of food, another morsel of bread! By the time she finished she felt a little queasy. She stumbled to the bathroom and threw up. Out came everything, the food she had enjoyed and the rest she had eaten out of a sense of duty. So much for not wasting anything any more... But she could still show her mettle with the money. That hun­dred-dollar bill was still in her handbag, tucked away in the little purple purse she always carried with her. No way is she going to waste that again! She walked through the casino, not even glancing at the flashing lights of the slot machines, not even hearing their enticing call. A few more steps and she was outside, breathing in the cool night air. “I did it!” She was jubilant with joy. “I did not waste the last of my money. I can go home with a measure of dig­nity. I shall not end up being the prodigal son - or daughter, whatever.” She felt, rather than saw, a pair of eyes looking at her out of the darkness of the night. It was not the good fairy. It was a robber who pressed a gun against her chest and took the money she had been so proud of saving. As a finishing touch, he hit her in the head with the butt of the gun. She fell right back into the deep dark hole where she could not see or hear or feel. * * * What’s the morale of this story? Nothing! Nothing except perhaps the fact that no good deed goes unpunished. Second chances don’t always work out better than the first ones. Eating the excess food instead of junking it will only make you fat or sick, and holding on to your money takes away your chance of using it and gives that chance to someone else. Changing one thing you did in the past because of who you were would unravel the whole fabric of your life and change who you are today - not necessarily for the better. So live your life to the fullest, enjoy every minute of it, use your resources as you see fit, and don’t judge others for doing the same. Szeptember 8, 2006 ^0 ^ |

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