I wouldn’t call myself gullible exactly, just a stupid optimist. I still want to believe in the world that’s been laid out in Disney movies. Where everyone has a contingent of mice to do their bidding and everything ends with a sweet rhythm and blues breakdown over the credits.

It’s rough out there for guys like us, though, because there’s always some proverbial bird poop, or sidewalk gum, or elevator farter seemingly hell-bent on destroying any hopes that the world will one day burst forth with animal-led song and dance numbers.

I was leaving Newhouse 2 the other day, and the sun was shining, the patio tiles were shifting — slightly enough for me to worry about structural collapse, but not enough for me to quicken my pace — and that girl who is seemingly always yelling at someone to “Get it done!” on the phone was laughing. Albeit menacingly. But laughing still. Yes, I felt a song coming on.

I was so chipper that I attempted to whistle even though I don’t really have the ability, thus making me look like I’m constantly blowing kisses to passers-by. Like Kate Middleton or a toddler in a tiara.

I then heard someone shout in my general direction. “Hey, do you want to save some money?”

I thought to myself, “Why yes! Yes, I would like to save some money.” That way I wouldn’t have to tip the calzones guy with only a dime, nickel and various pennies in my pocket anymore.

I eagerly turned around and saw a man who was very clearly homeless, but I stopped myself and thought, “Don’t be so judgmental.”

Plus, if “Beauty and the Beast” taught me anything, it’s that these situations are rife for curses to occur. I mean, I could handle life as an inanimate object, but life as a beast would require quite a bit of upkeep. And I can’t even handle upkeep on my weird, scraggly beard.

Obviously, this man had not expected anyone to take him up on his offer and thus was unprepared to tell me anything. He offered me a cigarette and started in with the shifty eyes. And I mean full-on-old-timey-villain shifty eyes.

After about 15 minutes, I started to wonder if I was being robbed — but being robbed very poorly, based on the oddly direct, “How much money do you have on you?” questions I kept getting.

It was clearly amateur hour because it was mid-day and I was in front of Newhouse, a school that specializes in teaching people how to use Twitter, Instagram and Tumblr. So in the event of a robbery, I’d have 10 hashtags about myself, a picture of my robber and me in sepia-tone and five GIFs on how “How I Met Your Mother” explains the entire situation.

Alright, so you may be wondering why I didn’t just stop talking and leave. And the answer is one: My parents have taught me to be polite to a fault leading me to be a favorite target of lonely old people with copious amounts of pictures of their grandchildren, cats, and grandchildren holding those cats. And two: that stupid optimism again. I just want a world full of magic, wonder and Robin Williams.

You know, everything we were promised by that amiable mouse?

But I guess if everything in life were spectacular, nothing would be. Sometimes you need an almost robbery or your zipper being down for most of the day to appreciate the days when you can eat a macaroni calzone and not care that you’re essentially eating a loaf of bread shoved into another loaf of bread.

But clichés aside, maybe I should stop talking to strange men on the street just because Disney told me it could be magical.

Christian Unkenholz is a sophomore public relations and political science major. He can be found on Marshall Street getting flattered at Starbucks as Gertis calls him a “pretty girl.” His column appears every Thursday in Pulp. He can be reached at cdunkenh@syr.edu.

Published on October 10, 2013 at 1:30 am