"Now give me money, that's what I want" --The Beatles

[Editor's note: Yeah, I was a little quick with the trigger finger today and--accidentally--blessed you with two posts. Instead of pointing out my error, you could, oh, I dunno, just be grateful and look at both of them. Well, you could. Or even--now this is a crazy thought here--comment! Getting judgy is not a good look on you. Neither is taupe. Just sayin'.]


I had lunch with the entertaining and sweet Barbara in Old Town Alexandria at Restaurant Eve. They run quite the deal during the week. So I got good company and good food.

I also got more. Usually I have some change on me but this time I managed to leave the house without any change and Old Town is all about metered parking. What to do?

I considered parking, running to the restaurant, asking for change, running back to the car all while hoping a cop didn't wander by in the meantime. But the three--count 'em: three--cop cars I saw on the way, made me nervous.

Instead, I parked, took a dollar out of my purse and, waving it, asked the first person I saw if she had change for the meter. She immediately replied "Yes" and handed me four quarters from her hand! I guess she was all ready to feed a meter herself and had extra...? Strange, but who am I to be ungrateful? I thanked her, gave her the dollar and fed the meter.

That bought me an hour. Probably sufficient but I didn't want to be that person that rushes you through lunch. So, I took out another dollar and waved it at the next person I saw, asking for change for the meter. He immediately fished out his change and said "I don't have change for a dollar but take what I have." Me: "No, here, take the dollar." Him: "No, no, just take the change and feed the meter."

Amazing.

Which brings me to the question du jour: How often do you depend on the kindness of strangers? Will you only do it in emergencies or do you assume, hey, that's what strangers are for?

Bonus questions: Would you help someone in this situation or keep walking? Would it matter what they looked like?

"I found God on the corner of First and Amistad" --The Fray

This morning, on my standard commute, I am sitting in my car at a light and I turn to the right and see two guys standing, smoking, staring in my direction. I immediately feel uncomfortable. I don't know why. I think "dirtbags". I wonder why I have this visceral--and likely unfair--reaction. I look around, not seeing anything they might be staring at. I look back at them. They're still standing, smoking, staring. I don't want to make eye contact so I look straight ahead.

It's a long light. And I won't turn my head to the right. So, eventually, I turn to the left, again. There, I see a young man (20s?) with a book bag slung over his shoulder and he's walking but not like you and I walk. His legs don't work right. It's as if he's dragging each leg to get each foot into the right configuration. If he weren't so young, I'd think he had polio. Muscular dystrophy? Cerebral palsy? Sadly, there are lots of reasons legs don't work right. I think "poor guy" as I watch him slowly, laboriously make his way down the sidewalk.

As he is crossing the street, he breaks into a run. It's somehow less disturbing to watch him run. He's still ungainly but maybe it's because lots of people look flaily when they run and he is impressive. He is booking it for all he's worth and I'm surprised at how quickly he can move.

It's at this point that the bus comes up and I realize this guy is running for the bus stop. The light is changing but the bus goes through the yellow light and I know there's no way this guy is going to make the bus stop in time. He's still too far away. If only the bus had stopped at the light... My heart sinks for this guy.

With the light change, I start to drive. And, as I go, I see the bus pull up next to the running guy and the doors open. He stops and turns. And I am happy.