okay, i'm not going to harp on this because i know that we've all been hit on by by some pretty crazy hard-luck cases. it's just that hearing other peoples' tales of getting picked up by the hunchbacked, piss-smelling dregs of society is not quite the same as experiencing that shit first hand. in case you missed it, a forty-something black man rocking the Moesha-do and bleeding profusely from his mouth "hooked me up with his digits" yesterday outside the oral surgery department of the medical school where i work. i should also mention that he looked extra crazy because some of his braids were doing a patrick henry-style escape from their prison of a hairnet, lending him sort of a busta rhymes/pippi longstocking feeling. what was it that made me appear somehow accessible to this person? i mean, i'm not a bad looking guy...did he feel that the geyser of blood erupting from his face was equalizer enough to level the playing field? i keep reminding myself that others have it worse. there was the time katie staggered into our apartment, still dazed from having been flattered mercilesslsy by a man with no legs at the bus station.
c'est la vie.