Reasons Why I Love My Job #106

by Crazy Ivan


So today I'm off and chilling in the beautiful weather.  I had to hit up the ATM to grab some cash this morning and since the weather is so ridiculously pleasant today I decided to break out my unicycle for the first time this year.

Had to air up the tire and take a couple of practice runs up and down the street before I was ready to brave the full trip.  When the weather gets nice the sidewalks get a lot more crowded so you've got to be pretty on your game to ride a unicycle down them.  I suppose I should mention that when I hit big crowds I get off and walk my uni until the crowds peter out.  Safety first and all.

Anyway, so I head through picturesque Forest Hills and along the way I'm getting the typical looks you get when you ride the five boroughs on one-wheel.  Some people just kind of stare like they're not sure if they've just been magically transported to a circus, but most people smile and it's pretty cool to ride around on something that makes everybody smile.

By the time I made it to the bank I'm sweating something fierce.  For those of you who don't ride a unicycle (and believe it or not, that isn't all of our readers) you should know that riding one of those things is a serious physical chore.  Most people assume it's about like riding a bicycle, but on a unicycle the crank arms are attached directly to the wheel.  If you want that tire to spin, your pedaling.  Unlike a bike, there is no coasting on a unicycle (unless you're incredibly skilled).

So I step off my unicycle and walk into the bank.  There are 3 ATMs there but there's still a pretty serious line.  Four people are ahead of me and one is a mother who had three kids who are bored and testing her patience.  They'd seen me come up on the unicycle and clearly they were fascinated.  I kind of wanted to ride it around the lobby of the bank for a minute to entertain them, but I had a sneaking suspicion that the bank security would have issues with that.

Instead, I did the next best thing... or maybe the first best thing.  I pulled out a Myachi.

Two of the kids were little guys.  One was still in a stroller and another was about 5, but the oldest (all boys) was maybe 7 or 8 so he was old enough to play.  So I throw down a quick shred to get their attention.  Well, maybe the shred was a little too good because pretty soon I had everyone's attention.  Like, all the customers, all the tellers and the two security dudes.

The oldest boy looks to his mom and says, "mom, can I play?"

The mom looks at me as though to relay the question so I nod and she nods back.  I go into Myachi Master autopilot (which starts with the words, "You're in bro... hold your hand out like this... spread those fingers out...) and start doing my thing.

Well, one of the other customers in line looks pretty interested too and I don't care that he's in his forties, he's still a kid in my eyes.  "Here you go," I say, turning to him, "you're in too."

I had 5 Myachis on me so within two minutes I've got four people playing and I'm using the fifth one to demonstrate the tricks.  The five year old is going nuts because he doesn't have one to play with so I pass him my last one and start demoing with my phone.  It's about then that I notice the security guy approaching out of the corner of my eye.

The older kid sticks an under the leg on his fourth try and when he does, the whole crowd by the ATMs goes nuts.  They're all cheering for this dude and he's blushing like crazy.  The five year old is laughing and shaking my Static Cling like it was a maraca.  Some dude in a $900 suit is throwing down a Wolverine.  The mom is keeping half an eye on her kids while she makes her withdrawal in piece.  Two old ladies are asking me if I really ride that unicycle.

And then the security guard gets there.  This is usually about the time the fun stops.

But not this time.  "Is that a Myachi?" the guard asks.

Surprised that he knows the name, I must have responded with a pause.

"One of those hand hacky sacks, right?"

"Exactly.  How do you know the game?"

"My son saw it on TV and ever since then he's been asking me for one."

Through this little back and forth everyone is still jamming.  The business man tosses back the Myachi so he can go about his banking business so I toss the security guard in.  He catches it clean and I'm about to teach him the Cold Fusion when he stops me.

"I can't," he says, handing back the Myachi, "I'm at work."

I nod.  I understand, of course.  Not everyone is lucky enough to have a job where they're required to play with toys.  "Keep it," I offer.  It was a Dwight Howard sack I wasn't particularly attached to.  "Check us out on You-Tube and Facebook.  You can learn a few moves and teach them to your son."

He smiles and thanks me and heads back to his post.  I smile inward, knowing that I just made some kid I'd never met really happy.  I'd also made a few kids I had met pretty happy as well and about then I had to gather back the Myachis I'd loaned them.  Mom was ready to go.  I asked her if it would be okay to give them a Myachi (I always get mom's permission) and she accepted graciously.  Couldn't give up my Static Cling, of course, so I hooked them up with a Boss Tweed I had on me.

So that would have been the end of the story except that the oldest kid asked my about my unicycle before they left.  "Can you really ride that?" he asked.

I glanced over at my new buddy, the security guard.  He laughed and waved his hand dismissively, very purposely looking the other way while I hopped up and rode around the lobby for a few seconds.  I did a quick figure 8 around the little tables where they keep the deposit slips and stuff then rolled through the little velvet rope that cordons off the teller's line while throwing down some basic swap tricks with my Static Cling.

When I hop off I actually got a round of applause from half the people in the bank.  Had it not been for the incredible power of Myachi, I probably would have gotten arrested for doing that.  Instead, I get a standing ovation... albeit from people who were already standing.