JoJo, the security guard at the diamond exchange, was a betting man. He gambled the left-overs from his monthly NYPD pension on baseball, basketball, and football. His losses outweighed his wins. JoJo also wagered on odd parlays and at the beginning of March in 2010 I said that there would be another snowstorm. It was raining outside on West 47th Street.
A hard rain.
The sleety wind peeled ferules from cheap umbrellas like bananas.
“It ain’t gonna snow.” The big Pole/Mick was a native of the Bronx. The weather was colder up in that northern borough than Manhattand and the retired cop sounded certain of his prediction
“I say that we get one more dusting.” I was counting on ‘global weirding’. The last decade saw three snows in the ‘cruelest month of all’. March offered and even better chance for a blizzard.
“Dusting is bullshit. It snowed a little last year.” JoJo was a knowledgeable gambler.
“Okay, 2 to 1 odds that New York gets 4 inches of snow before the end of April.”
“In Central Park.” JoJo was fixing the wager. Manhattan is 5 degrees warmer than the outer boroughs thanks to a micro-climate created by concrete, steel, and carbon emissions along with the body temperatures of fat people. JoJo had lost 15 pounds in the last month. The ex-cop had stopped drinking beer.
“Okay.” I had a good hunch. Cops like hunches too. His was a sure thing. Mine was more a feeling and I started singing the Arrowsmith hit MORE THAN A FEELING.
“Hey, no fair.” JoJo was a rock fan. Red Sox too. “Keep that Boston stuff out of the bet. This is New York.”
We shook hands. JoJo went downstairs to the vault. It was lunch time. Manny my boss shook his head.
“What?”
“That was a stupid bet.” Manny had lost every wager on the Superbowl since 1967. He was an expert at bad bets.
“It’s only ten dollars. Plus you never know.” Like the lottery you can’t win unless you play.
“No way it’ll snow in the next two months.” Manny returned to his paperwork. A purgatory of bills and invoices. I pulled out the job box. Not a single envelope came from my sales. Money was tight same as last year. There was no recovery for the middle-class, although Manny’s son was selling fast and furious to his rich friends. The weeks passed with the temperature rising every day, until this weekend the thermometer hit 70. I studied the meteorological map of the USA. Snow in the Rockies. Canada nothing. The Red River was cresting with ice floes in the Dakotas. The trees in Fort Greene Park were showing red buds. Today is the equinox. The planet is on an even keel. I’m wearing shorts. This weather is no good.
“Looks like I’ve lose my bet.” I said at the breakfast table to AP, my landlord.
“It was a stupid bet.” He had won a bet on St. Patrick’s Day for when our party of four would see a green plastic hat. $5 for the time from each of his three friends. Another $5 for it being worn by a female.
“It might snow in April.” His wife was from San Diego. Coronado Beach had never experienced a snowfall.
“Thanks for the optimism.” Snow crowned the thrones of the mountains east of San Diego. I was positive too. 10 more days of March and another 30 in April. The odds are heavily in JoJo’s favor, then again he bet that the Red Sox would sweep the Yankees last year. He was right the first half of the season and dead wrong the second half. That was a bet I hated seeing him lose. We’re Bosox fans. Winning my snow bet was a goof, but neither of us were welshers and $10 will buy 3 beers in the East Village on an unseasonably cold March day.
They will taste good.
Win or lose.