The stretch of Grace Street between Laurel and Lombardy is always fertile territory for a certain kind of passer-by on my daily walks. Today, for instance, three guys were approaching me when one of them stopped dead in front of me, put his hand to his waist and gave me a deep bow, saying, "Hello, Beautiful. You're still walking? You're keeping it tight!" I'm not exactly sure what that meant, but I feel fairly certain it was a compliment.
A block further down, a guy came toward me and said, "Good morning. You are looking sooooo fine!" and there was as much leer in his voice as there was on his face. He looked like an animal licking his chops before devouring something; I kept moving.
But the coup de grace was the guy sitting on a brick wall on Hell Block, taking deep pulls on his 40 oz. at 10:00 in the morning. When he saw me, he said, "If I leave this here, can I walk with you?" Now that's a very generous offer from a man who clearly appreciates his morning drink, but I had to decline. There was no telling if his 40 would have been there when we got back and I couldn't live with myself if I had been responsible for the man's loss.
Do you think it was the shorts?