2001-07-27 - 8:24 p.m.

At a pay phone outside Gandolfo�s hot dog stand. An anonymous corner of the city. He said he�d be right down. I look all around me. He could be coming from any direction.

I�m staring out across the street when I think I hear someone call my name. But all I see is a kid walking down the street. Where the hell is he? Maybe this was a bad idea.

The kid gets closer and motions to me.

�Come on. I�ll take you to Marius.�

The kid�s name is Tyler. He�s 14, just started his summer off. What are you, one of his minions, I wonder. No, he tells me. He�s Denise�s son. Fair enough. Who�s Denise? Marius is staying with us for a while, he says. Come on, I�ll take you in.

Turns out he�s a very together kid, mature. He certainly knows how to talk to strangers. We cross the street, go up the stairs into the apartment. Marius is in the shower, so we shoot the breeze.

�So, what�s the plan for the summer?� I ask.

�Oh, not too much,� Tyler says. �I�m just gonna catch up on some relaxing, hang out. Things I didn�t get a chance to do during the school year.�

Some kids his age would have a very different answer to that question. Soccer camp, band camp, a million scheduled activities. But Tyler�s life is far from typical. He shares his life with Denise, who dances (exotic-style) for a living, his dog, and her boyfriends or ex-boyfriends, like Marius Wilson, who is just coming out of the shower.

Marius comes out, his long mane of hair still damp, puts on a charming smile and shakes my hand. Marius Wilson, who will intrigue and exasperate me, who will be a source of envy and insufferable boredom. I don�t know what I�m in for, but then neither does he. He�s the kind of guy who doesn�t go looking over the horizon much beyond the task at hand, which at the moment involves matching up videotapes with the labels in his little plastic bag. Tyler gives him a hand.

�Let�s see, we�ve got two Pantera, a Jane�s Addiction, a Dave Matthews.� He hands the bag to Tyler, who is eager to help. �Here. You look for UFO.�

Marius makes his scratch selling videotapes. Some he tapes himself for his weekly cable access show; others he collects from people in the business. More metal than anything else � a triple-bill concert with Anthrax, Slayer and Megadeth. A tape of the Misfits in their early days, featuring a young Glenn Danzig answering stupid questions from the boyish host of a college TV program.

Marius drags his crates of videotapes around Chicago, hawking them for $25 apiece outside rock concerts, in bars, in the parking lot of guitar stores, wherever he can find kids with money. My job, as of today, is to drive him around in search of customers.

We take Tyler to the video store to pick up a game, then dump him back home. �Bratty kid,� Marius says. Then we�re off to make some cash.

Marius is wearing his muscle shirt and cutoff corduroy pants, his usual outfit. He flips on the radio and turns it to the rock station � �Crocodile Rock� � rolls down the window of my Ford Festiva and lights a cigarette. We sing along, and he tells me a bit of his story.

�Yeah, so I go to concerts for a living; you�re probably thinking, �Wow, what an interesting job.�� A million people have said this to him, I�m sure, and he expects me to be thinking it. He doesn�t say it with a lot of conviction, though. �Yeah, well, it�s cool.�

First stop is the Guitar Center. Two guys with black concert t-shirts are walking inside. �Pull over here,� he says. He can smell the sale.

�Hey, guys, what�s up,� he says in his friendliest voice, and in five seconds they�re holding his video list. There�s gotta be 200 names. He�s a smooth talker, not overbearing, just letting these suburban dudes know that this might be their one big chance to get rare, killer concert footage. �I�ll cut you a deal,� he tells them. �They�re 30 if you buy them in the mail, plus 3 for shipping and handling. For you guys, I�ll go 25. Or two for forty. That�s 20 bucks apiece.�

One guy doesn�t have the money, the other is eyeing the Misfits video. He gives him the story on that one, which is pretty much the same story with every one. �How�s the quality on these things? Cause sometimes you buy one of these things and you can hardly see the band.�

This is where Marius bears down. He leans in. This is gooood stuff, dude. It�s pro shot. One camera. Tripod. From the balcony. Center stage. Right! There!

It doesn�t matter what he�s saying. It�s the tone. Whatever it is, if it�s one camera or three, old stuff or new, this is exactly what you want. He pauses just long enough for you to say, Woah, dude, and if you don�t you�re just being rude. And then he goes on, holding out his hands in a square to represent the screen. They come on, dry ice everywhere, and open up with, (reaching for his air guitar) daaah naaah, naaah naaah! You know what I mean, right? He lets out his signature exaggerated laugh, hahaha, and suddenly the tone is, you are a big Misfits fan, right? If you�re a major fan like me, you know that song, and if you�re a major fan, you want the video; it will set you apart from all the other minor fans out there and you and me, you with your money and me with my charm, we will be friends, because we know.

�Any way I can get a preview?� he asks.

No problem. We all head into the guitar store, into a side room with a VCR, and he play a few minutes, Marius talking over the video, I told you it�s good stuff, right? and The sound gets better after this song, and Yeah, he�s liking it, hahaha. The guy nods and smiles and reaches for his wallet.

The we make the rounds of the guitar store, where he goes around like he owns the place. After 12 years running the same circuit, Marius is an institution here. He�s been around longer than anybody else, so they don�t remember a time when he didn�t hang out, bang on the drum set, use their phone like it was his office, use their VCR to preview his videos. They don�t mind, but it doesn�t hurt to throw the management a free video now and then.

And then he makes the rounds to the employees � �Can I get you any videos today? Any for you? Come on, I need to pay my rent!� he whines with a smile.

He is the salesman who invades your space, harasses you, sells you what you really don�t want, sniffs out the cash in your wallet and throws you aside if you don�t have what he wants. He makes his money and consumes it in record time, and the next day he�s got to be out finding new customers. There are no people in his world, no friends, only customers.

But no, he is the anti-corporate, he is a man who plays by his rules alone, who lives outside the system, who lives just to get by, not to amass wealth but to have a good time. He fears nothing, hangs out with the eight ball in the corner pocket, looking over the ledge to imminent disaster but somehow never falling. He plays the world, takes it for all he can get, but does it with a smile and a polite, have a good one guys, that lets you know that he�s just trying to get by in his own way, he doesn�t mean any harm.

We take off, and bounce all over. We stop by a hair salon to chat with a woman he met at a party. He owes her money for a haircut. He hugs her, asks her to call him. We go to a bar, where he pulls out a paper to see what concert there the kids will be tonight. We go to the concert, and he flashes his homemade badge to the doorman and gets us in for free.

It�s all a con in some way, or just a confidence game. Just act like you know what you�re doing, you belong here, just take up the right forceful tone, make eye contact, and you�ll get anywhere. Some of these people at the door of the Metro don�t know him; he just tells them, My name�s Marius, I do a cable access show, film bands for a living, they let me in here. In Walgreen�s, he goes to buy videotapes on sale for 99 cents apiece. They�re limit six per purchase, the cashier tells him; he�s got 30. No, you see, I come here all the time, I run a video production company, I�m always buying these. Whether he�s right or not, the unspoken message is, sent out by body language and tone is, I know I�m right, If you don�t let me do this then you are a fool, You are wasting my time. But then, when, occasionally he is rebuffed, he simply turns away and moves on to the next task at hand, nothing personal, just doing business.

We park our video crates at a hot dog stand outside the Metro; kids are milling through the streets, coming from or going to the concert inside. I am positioned at an outside picnic table while he makes the rounds, flier in hand, trying to draw people to the videos.

My job is to catch the people who come nearby, make the same pitches Marius makes. Only I don�t have the confidence or the knowledge, I just call out to whoever looks over me, �Anybody want to buy some videos?� just loud enough for them to hear. My body language tells them, I don�t want to have anything to do with this, and you don�t want to buy these videos, do you? Every once in a while somebody wanders by to check them out and asks me a question. I try to imitate August. �They�re � primo stuff. Pro shot.� I tell him how much they cost. Sheesh, he says, and wanders away.

We stop by a bar next door and he buys me a drink. Somebody he knows is having a private party. I drink my beer and chat with some people at the table. One tells me about his band; another is just visiting from Georgia. The girl at the end of the table is celebrating her birthday. Perhaps this is what I�ve been waiting for. Experience, experience! Interact! Flirt! You�re young yet! Make some memories! Get some action!

But then Marius is getting up. Whoop, sorry, gotta go. The night is young, and we have many lives to live before we sleep.

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