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How I talked to a drunk homeless guy
Thursday, Febuary 22, 2001 - 12:00

This morning I was riding my bike back from physical therapy when I rode past a homeless guy. As I rode past him, he said, "Can you spare any change?" I didn't have any money with me, and probably wouldn't have stopped to give him any even if I had, so I turned my head to tell him I didn't have any, but my hair blew in my face so I couldn't say anything for fear of choking on my luxurious flowing locks.

I had to stop at an intersection and he came walking up. He smelled like whiskey.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't have any money with me."

"Okay," he said. "Have a nice day."

"You too."

"You're only about 22, aren't you?" he asked.

"25 tomorrow," I said.

"I shouldn't even be asking that," he slurred, "because I have a daughter that's 28."

"Oh really?" I said.

Then the light changed.

"Have a nice day," I said.

"Same to you," he said.

I rode away. Some other girls were coming across the street for the drunk homeless guy to accost. I realized that he had kind of been hitting on me. As if that would make me cough up some money.

p.s. There will be no p.s. today.

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