I don’t know if it was Spring just itching in peoples bones, or if someone was passing out free psychotropics down the street, but something was just a little off kilter downtown today as I got off work.

The first sign was the clueless panhandler. His first mistake was that he started with the finishing line. As he first walked by, sporting nice pants, a designer-esque shirt, and a cute dog on a leash, he flashed me a yellow toothed smile and wished God’s blessing on me. All good beggars know to save the blessing until later in the game. Then he told me about how cold it was last night for his dog, (who had not lost her winter coat, or winter’s reserve of blubber). I really did feel sorry for the guy. I was about ready to give him panhandling lessons.

I had only barely gotten rid of him when I heard singing down the street, and coming closer. I looked and there before my eyes is a thin, middle aged man sporting salt and pepper hair, a classic olive suit, latex gloves, and a school-bus-yellow hard hat, swerving down the entire width of the road on a mountain bike.  As he went he circled a group of jay-walking college kids, sing-songing, “My bike is cheaper than your bike! My bike is cheaper than your bike!” Baffled, I continued loading my tools.

Eventually a couple of my coworkers came out, and we began conversing. I pointed out the ecstatic bicyclist who was making mad circles around the square. As we laughed this up, an odd couple, he looking very much like a monkey, and she possibly carrying all her worldly possessions in a backpack, stopped to question us on the nature of the construction project ($1495 a month loft apartments). After hearing a goodly portion of her life story, they left us. No sooner, a new couple walked by, whose timing could not have been written better by a Hollywood screenwriter.

They were an elderly couple. She was pushing him, he having neither leg below the thigh. It could have been a touching picture. But just as they rolled by, we got a snapshot of their conversation.  We had to go back inside after that, unable to contain our gleeful reaction to the effects of what undoubtedly must have been the weather.

He spoke reminiscently. “I one-time peed on the steps of a library.”

“Oh, God, Leroy,” she sighed. “Sweet Jesus.”

Afraid the general atmosphere might be catching, we retreated.