Dewey Defeats No One

W 60th St & Amsterdam Ave, New York, NY 10023

Neighborhood: Upper West Side

Saturday, September 21, 2002 1100 Student Aide Dewey opens courts. On duty. Graffiti spotted on southern fencepost, third from Amsterdam Avenue.

1218 Supervisor Pavi visits, informed of graffiti.

1430 S/A Krauss relieves Dewey for meal break.

1531 S/A Dewy returns from meal, relieves Krauss.

1800 SA Dewey off duty. Courts close

Sunday 22 2002 1106 S/A Dewey opens courts. On duty.

1400 Dewey (illegible)

1700 S/A Dewey reopens courts. As he is coming back from the returning the booth keys to the Dorm Desk, he spies two underage, non-collegiate skate rats meddling around the interior of the courts. Dewey’s decision has already been made to give them the boot; if they had asked him to play, maybe, but this smells of pure hooliganism. His fears for the welfare of the courts are justified as he presently observes one punk, a WM, 4’9” 100 lbs., granny-heave a stray tennis ball over the fence, across the street, and onto an indeterminate section of one of John Jay College’s more lackluster facilities.

Dewey, approaching: “Hey kid, what the hell’s going on here?” (Official-like at 8.25 an hour.)

Kid #1: “Oh, you mean we can’t be here?” (Guilty conscience; not a proper reply to the more vague question posed by their interlocutor.)

Kid #2: “Oh, shit.” (This is the tennis ball heaver-hoer.)

Dewey: You’re gonna have to get that ball back, you know.

Kid #1: “I can get you a ball!” (Unclear whether this is a thinly veiled sexual reference.)

Dewey: “No, you’re not, this guy is.” (Referring to my brace-faced adversary, who now wears his sheepish grin like a lumpy, poorly tailored sheepskin coat that’s too big for him now but “looked fine in the store.”)

Resident Director Anthony Ferrante walks by, smirks.

Kid #2: “I was just trying to roof it, and it didn’t work.” (The etymology of the phrase “roof it” is clear, unlike the point of the effort itself.)

Unable to come up with a reply which would both satiate his desire for victory in this power struggle and still leave him looking cool to these snotty delinquents with chain wallets, Dewey has frozen up. As always, the correct riposte emerges four minutes later: “Maybe you just suck at throwing!”

But the time has past. The kids, probably thinking they’ve screwed some liberal-arts pansy out of a costly piece of athletic equipment, have escaped down Amsterdam as if the avenue were a mountainous region in wartime.

Dewey is alone, again, in his booth.

Monday, September 23, 2002 1730 S/A Desai on duty, courts opened. All clear.

1750 Supervisor Henshaw visits, notes misuse of duty log by Student Aide Dewey.

1900 S/A Desai off duty.

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