Ogle Here

I was barely two blocks from home when I passed one of my neighborhood regulars walking toward me. "You're late," he accused. "I had a late night," I explained. "Tsk, tsk," he chided, brushing one index finger against the other. "Bad girl." Who needs a mother when I've got strangers for my moral compass?

Standing at a bus stop was an old man and by old, I mean nearly bald with a couple of white wisps of hair, coke-bottle glasses, obvious dentures and leaning on a walker.

"Good MORNING," he shouted at me and I answered in kind. "You LOOK nice IN shorts!" he yelled in that overly loud way that hard-of-hearing people have of putting the em-PHAS-is on the wrong syl-LAB-le. But it's good to know that age doesn't prevent a man from ogling.

And maybe it's new and maybe it's not, but today was the first time I noticed the red "EAT HERE" sign with a white arrow pointing down, high atop the front of BoDillaz Quesadillas, a popular student eatery on Broad. It's so far up the building that I'm not sure who's going to actually see it, but I got a kick out of a sign that looked straight out of a low budget '40s movie.

I'd like it even better if it flashed on and off at night. You know, "EAT" followed by a moment of awkward darkness, and then "HERE." Sort of like the way the old guy yelled.