The light changes and she runs off.
This is all unremarkable and barely distracts me from the BSG podcast I am listening to.
A block and a half later, I approach a liquor store that often has unsavory characters around it. Blocking the sidewalk are three somewhat atypical characters, what appear to be three suburban teens wearing mild rap casual of varying ethnicities. As I approach, one, what appears to be a small Filipino youth of perhaps about 16, moves out looking truly pissed off and hurls what appears to be a Soba energy drink in a lazy ballistic arc on down the sidewalk at the receding form of the blond homeless guy.
The guy turns and as I pass the two teens nearest I hear various mumblings of anger. Thinking it unwise to get involved, I say nothing, but I deliberately walk in a way that puts me, the bystander, between the two. As I pass the last, a larger black guy who on closer look appears to be about twenty says almost in my ear "c'mon, he's not worth it."
As I approach the blond guy, I get my first good look at him. He's got the weathered face of the permanent homeless and the glazed eyes of the permanent drunk. He says over my shoulder "cmon Ill kick ur ass what you say" or some similar ramble. Not long after I pass him and cross to the right, he race walks past me out past the red light into the street full of cars all of which honk. For the next two blocks I watch him race-walking up the other side of the street until I lose sight of him.
The fragrant blond woman, I never saw again.
This is one of those times that I really wish I knew the full story.
|< Good Gordie Howe, I'm Sore All Over. | Squigs 2009 >|