NO. You CAN’T borrow my fuckin’ cell phone.

Stop asking me.

Here we go. The latest twist to street hustle. I guess it’s a little more dignified than asking for fifty cents for the pay phone. Not like those aren’t an endangered species, but what really burns my ass is when brokedicks ask to use your phone with a pay phone right there.

Which goes to another facet of this particular rant- why do I usually get hit up at Light Rail stations for my cell? Especially at say, 16th Street, where I could be taking either of TWO trains in any particular direction? What, if you aren’t going to Meadowview and I am, THEN I’m supposed to wait until you have your conversation to board MY train?

Okay, okay, you’re running late and need to tell somebody. Suggested solution: be punctual in the first place. Or better yet, carry about a buck in change so you can use the fuckin’ pay phone. Or even better yet, GET YOUR OWN CELL PHONE. If you need to get ahold of people that urgently it might work out for you. But then again, if you are so out of it that you think that walking up to strangers for temporary use of a utility (kind of like asking to borrow their stove or hot water) is perfectly rational behavior, you’re probably too jacked up in the head to keep track of your minutes, let alone pay your bill on time.

As far as I can tell, there are three reasons I have come up with to bum my cell:

1. You’re late and need to tell someone that you’re on your way.

2. You need to contact your dealer/ customer/ fellow gang member/ otherwise questionable character and it’s the PERFECT way not to get pinned down by The Man.

3. You are having some sort of health/ safety/ national security emergency and need to dial 911. (I’d be more than happy to call them for you myself.)

I’m not so worried about numbers 1 and 3 as number 2 and for that reason alone, I’m justified not to be too cool with handing you my phone.

So, in future requests, you will get the response of “Sorry, I need to watch my minutes. Tell you what, I have .50 for the pay phone over there…” and you’ll just have to live with it or ask somebody else. And anyway, it’s going to be common practice for me to be carrying my cell in my pocket and not in my hand from now on so you won’t be any the wiser anyway.

For those of you who think it’s not such a big deal, and gladly hand their cell to any old Tom Dick and Scarface who comes along, wait until it turns into France and fools ask to use your phone and then put their sprinting skills to the test. Then you’ll be the one approaching someone and asking, “Uh (pant pant) can I uh (wheeze) borrow your phone? (Hack pant, wheeze) mine just got taken and I (pant, wheeze, sniffle, sob) couldn’t catch the fucker…”