My friend Tom (aka.,”The Blogfodder”) sent me a link to Everything Must Go the other day. I gave it a quick peek on Thursday, but it wasn’t until I took a closer look today that I was struck by the sheer genius of Chappell Ellison’s idea.
In a nutshell: She has decided to de-clutter her New York apartment, so she’s started a blog about the stuff she’s giving away. The first person who leaves a comment saying “I want it” gets it. For free! With one caveat.
I will not mail anything — not only do I want to avoid post offices, but I also want this to be as personal of an interaction as possible. So if you don’t live in the New York City area, hopefully you have a friend here who will be happy to shake my hand, receive the object, and get it to you.”
I was crushed at first. I live 1,200 miles from New York City. And although I have three friends there—a TV producer, a magazine executive, and an acquisition editor—I wouldn’t feel right about asking them to pick up a Strong Man Figurine (Condition: A little banged up) …
… a monkey finger puppet from an ex (Condition: good as new) …
… or a Chicken That Cannot Stand.
But then I hatched a brilliant idea (pardon the pun): Why not just GO to New York City and retrieve my loot, in person? My last visit was in 1997 — and Esteban’s been making noise about going back to his old haunts. Plus, I met a New Yorker in Paris last March who invited me to stop by his two Irish bars. (Thanks, Dan!)
“Wanna go to New York for a long weekend?” I asked Esteban tonight. His response surprised me. “I priced it out a couple of weeks ago. It’s cheaper to go to Paris for a week.”
Really?! Yes, really. He showed me the math. (Assumptions: N=4 is possible, Ψ=New York, and β=Paris.)
Seriously, though … I told Esteban about the Strong Man Figurine and the Monkey Finger Puppet and the Plastic Chicken That Cannot Stand. And you know what he said? “I’m sure you can find a plastic chicken in Paris.”
So it would seem that once again our travel path is leading to Paris.
I can hardly wait until the guy at immigration asks me, “What is the purpose of your visit?” I will look him straight in the eye and I’ll say, “I’m here for the plastic chicken.”