TANG DISCONNECTS

I was waiting for the cable guy. Due: between three and five p.m.
Outside the city was grinding people like hamburger and frying them on the sidewalks.
Suddenly, a gentle, single "tap" came at the door.
I pulled it wide as it would open.
A lone Asian man, in his forties, with face maroon as a new beet, sweated on the doorstep.
I invited him in.
He waited for me to step back, then, sank to the loft floor. I thought it was heat exhaustion.

"Hey, take it easy...I don't have air conditioning, but, would you like an iced tea?" I ran to the frig before he could answer.

I handed it to the confused looking cable man. He thanked me, quietly, looking like he was going to burst into tears.

"Why so many angry people in this city?! They think I'm coming for their money--I don't even collect money--just cable boxes--some of them even throw them at me! I don't make a salary with the big company--I independent contractor--have to pay for my own gas, my own parking--why so many people crazy? Their minds--so angry--they aren't right! People better than animals, should be better...all people around here rushing so fast--where they gonna go? Next stop light? Why?" He tucked his legs under himself and leaned against the wall.

"I'm sorry, man...geez...maybe because it's so hot outside? Or maybe it's just Los Angeles?" I sit down across from him, on the floor. (Most of the furniture is out of the loft, anyway.)

"You moving?" he finally breathes deeply and gets control. He looks at his clipboard form.

"Yup...going back east...outside of Boston, " try to relax, worried about him stroking out on me.

" What airline you flying?" he asks, suddenly re-animated.

"Uh, Southwest, I think," I point to the confirmation sheet tacked on the door.

"I used to work for United...fourteen years...till 9-11...then, they got rid of everybody that looked like me..." he sighed.

"Man...I know the feeling....didn't the Union help?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Only the senior people...now, I live day to day...this terrible job...they don't pay us right...no benefits...five years barely making it...I have a daughter to take care of..." his voice begins to quaver.

I don't know what to say...telling him I get it--from the union not saving his skinny butt to losing his job after fourteen years with nothing to show for it, to the base pay and struggle to survive in this crazy city...I so get it...I reach out and respectfully touch his arm.

He looks up, then, sees the prayer flags tacked above the confirmation papers. They are gifts from friends, from Tibet.

"You Buddhist?" he asks me, locking eyes for the first time.

"No, but I study the Buddha's teachings...I have Buddhist monk friends, and some nuns, too..." suddenly, something shifts...it's like an air conditioner has gone on in the loft and we are both relaxing.

"People need to practice calmness in this place...they need to start treating each other better...stop the medicines that make them crazy; stop the politicians who steal from everybody, too...we need to be kind..." he smiles, shyly.

"I think, when we calm our minds, we clean our hearts..." I smile back, equally shy.

"Is that why you are moving? So many people in Malibu, Beverly Hills, all leaving the city these days..." he adjusts himself into a full lotus position.

"My Mom is sick...I've been away for too long...I miss...peacefulness...I miss my family, too," I laugh.

"Yes, even Buddha knew when it was time to return home...it's good for your Mother...she will feel your coming home...things will be better for her..." his eyes begin to sparkle.

Suddenly, it is as if this Hollywood film has turned on...am I imagining this or is it really happening...have I created a cliche just to be able to tell the story? I check out his face.
No. There is a real connection here.

He bows a Buddhist bow--to me. I bow back. He says, "This is the first time in five years that someone has sat down with me, has invited me to talk, and given me some tea...thank you...on this terrible day...thank you!"

I take a deep breath for myself.

He stand up at the door. He gives me my receipt. He bows, again, and then gives me a very respectful hug. "I bless your Mother," he says to me, " and you must travel safely."
I feel the tears in the back of my eyes...but I feel stupid, too. (Why is it always so hard to accept these amazing moments when they finally arrive?)

I hand him the string of prayer flags.

"For the traffic..." I tell him.

He takes them, bowing, and heads down the stairs.

Tang Heng, you are so much more than a cable guy.