Tender Mercies

On Tuesday night I had to improvise a transportation route home, since I'd previously taken a roundabout way to get my cell phone. I stood there in the dark waiting for the 10A, that trusty purveyor of human baggage, and wondering when the hell it would show up, enjoying the sights at the corner of S. 15th and Eads, which include a Bank of America and a dark building. I called the Washington Metro Association. It was not helpful. Most of you who know me know that cold and gusty winds do not bother me and that I am superhuman, so you should take it as an indication of the weather that I say it was feckin' COLD that evening. To be frank, my nipples hardened and began to chafe against my shirt. A guy walked by looking like a typical Washington stooge, and I asked him whether he had change for a dollar because I'd forgotten my quarters. He reached into his voluminous pockets, withdrew a princely sum and gave it all to me, in copper and silver, saying "No worries, man." That helped keep me a little warmer. For a little while. Then the bus still didn't show up, and I peered into the night, weeping.