This story probably isn't as interesting as it is to me, who went through it, but this story came up last night for the first time since it happened 4 years ago.  My friend Michaela and I were talking about perspective, and the way people think, and how a lot of the time, I think of things completely off-base from the way most people would consider it, or accomplish it.  I don't think it's good or bad that this happens; I just know that it happens.

Freshman year of college, I was working in a classroom at a school where the kindergartners did a semester-long study of apples.  At the end of each study, they have a 'celebration' where the parents come in, they share what they've learned, art they did, etc etc.  It's adorable.  Oh, and they all bring in apple-related foods. MMM.  Well, as I was walking out the day of the kindergarten Apple Celebration, one of the teachers had a giant bag of apples in his hands, and knew I was a hungry NYU kid, and he offered me the apples.  I readily accepted, and continued on my exit.

I took the F train to 14th street, which let me off 4 blocks and 2 avenues away from my beloved bed and the weekend.  I began my walk, my fingers straining and purpling under the 15 apples in the cheap plastic D'Agastino bag.  I had a routine - walk across 14th, because there was usually something interesting to look at, turn down University, more often Broadway, get to my street, my dorm, my room, my bed...etc.  But that day, I decided I wanted to walk down 5th avenue.  I have no idea why I decided to abandon the route I was used to, but I know I felt compelled to turn when I got to the corner. 

On the corner of 12th and 5th there is a positively beautiful church.  New York has some gorgeous churches.  I reached the north end of the church (the 12th and 5th corner versus the 11th and 5th...), ready to take a rest because my hand hurt so badly, when I looked up and saw an older gentleman sitting with his back against the fence surrounding the church.  I noticed almost immediately that he looked thin, tired, and withdrawn; he was one of the thousands of people in the city, millions in the world, who aren't fortunate enough to get the regular meals I take for granted, or the roof over my head I don't even think twice about.  I've always been drawn to charity and opportunities to recognize 'hey, my life is actually pretty good and I'm pretty well off compared to some people'.  I don't feel holier when I do it, I don't feel like I did my good deed to keep me from hell... I just feel compelled to do it.  So when I saw this man, I also saw my wallet:  Sitting on top of my desk, next to the post-it I wrote about buying cereal over the weekend.  I would have not a penny to help him out.  Knowing I can't help makes me feel worse than anything.

As I continued my walk, he cleared his throat and asked if I had any change.  I shook my head and apologized.  Then I told him I had this bag full of beautiful red apples, and asked if he'd like one or all of them.  It wouldn't be that much of a sacrifice.  He looked at me with a smile and then said, "I can't eat apples".  I apologized again, zipped down 12th street.  I walked the remaining few blocks in hysterical tears.

This is where my thought process comes in (80 hours of background story later...).  I couldn't believe that I had offered this man who was likely very hungry on top of cold and scared, a food he was allergic to.  ALLERGIC to.  Of all things, this was the epitome of irony to me.  When I got home, 2 of my roommates saw how upset I was, and sat me down to calm me and comfort me and try to figure out what had upset me.  So I told them about the man, the apples, and the allergy and how was it possible that of all the foods I could have had on me, it was one he couldn't eat - allergic.

This is when my roommates both jumped in and pointed out to me that when he said, "I can't eat apples"... he probably didn't have very many, or very strong teeth.  That would have been the more obvious thought process behind his rejection of the fruit.  And in REALITY, it doesn't matter why he couldn't do it - I still felt guilty that I couldn't help him in anyway.  But to me, this (and my attempt to solve math problems junior year in my math-ed group) is the clearest example of times I've noticed 'wow, my thinking is waaaaaaaay off and this is why I often feel misunderstood - because it's just so far from where everyone else is, they CAN'T understand what I'm thinking'.  And maybe it's good that I see things in this off-beat way.