I went into a Chase Bank in The South Bronx after a cop walked out and into his squad car. For a few minutes, every bank employee and customer will have his or her guard down. Time to spring Mission: Impossible into action. I have no state ID or viable papers that will enable me to open an account to draw money from IMF members like China, Saudi Arabia, Japan, France, Russia, you know, countries around the world.

What this hobo does have is Jedi powers of persuasion.

“Can I have one of those?” I asked, pointing to a bowl of lollypops on the desk of a petite female bank agent. Taken a bit aback, she nodded as I popped a cherry favored one in my mouth ala who loves ya, baby, you know like Kojak. “Your commitment is to your country. Our commitment is to you,” I read a sign behind the bowl. This is what my insanely great project is about! I’m going put citizens across the U.S.A on police line-ups and take them to court. No illegal aliens need apply. Call this The Bronx Identity.

And be warned.

Sequels are coming.

Ka-ching!

To sum it up, in order to finish a school assignment on creating a tour book for The South Bronx, I took the road not taken at all. I didn’t get the account but I made the cute bank agent laugh when I said ala Terminator I’d be back. Pulp Science Fiction?

Not bloody likely, mate.

Think I’ll hit another bank in The Bronx.

Chase the dream! Catch me if you can.

You know, with lines like that, I could be some kind of new action hero on Madison Avenue.

Nah!