I was grabbing dinner at my local diner tonight and I looked up at one point to see two people crossing sixty-eighth street. One of them, the guy in the back, was holding a white cane in one hand and his other hand was resting on the red backpack of the guy in front. Fair enough. Then I take a closer look at the guy in front. He’s holding a white cane as well.
Do you understand what I’m saying? I actually saw the blind leading the blind tonight. I almost dropped my tuna melt. Seriously. They couldn’t have been opening cans of worms as they walked along?
What you have to understand is that, as an author, seeing something like that just completely throws me for a loop. I could never write that image into a story. Never. If I did I’d have to either make the whole story contain odd or fantastical elements, or that one detail would commandeer so much of my readers’ attention that it would derail the entire thing. There’d be endless questions about what this strange image meant, why I inserted it there, what significance it had to whatever was being said/done in the scene, was it inserted as a commentary on today’s neo-political outlook within a modernist framework, etc. Meanwhile, those two guys were probably just walking to Wendy’s for some burgers.
It was perfect, and I’ll never be able to use it. I’m reminded of a story I once read, I can’t for the life of me find it right now, but two guys in the 1800’s made a wager that one of them could not live off of a (again, I can’t find the story so my details are hazy, I forget the exact number) $500,000 bill for a month. The basic premise was that this guy would technically be tremendously wealthy but he’d find it impossible to actually buy anything with his wealth since it was in the form of a ridiculously high denomination bank note.
Tonight I earned my $500,000 dollar bill.