It was a sunny day and I decided to walk the couple blocks to Starbucks for my weekly treat… a cappuccino.
Along the way I passed some grungy looking teens, smiled and tried to get their attention and say, “Hi!” No luck.
I did, however, receive a friendly wave and good morning from, Bill, the sole indigent member of my little community who turns in cans daily for a living.
Bill, a Vietnam era fellow, with his dog Red (who rides in a trailer) bikes everywhere, never panhandles, drinks nor smokes. Bill is like the welcome wagon at the local gourmet supermarket: people all over the township love seeing the guy.
At Starbucks, I was waited on by a new face. The 20-something girl looked cranky and barked, “NEXT!”
I hurried up to her register, noticing her pierced metal nose thingy. I’ve since found out it’s called a “Septum barbell.” [Piercing code for grosser than gross]
All I know is, the gal who took my order kept sniffing, and I couldn’t help but wonder if her nose would run and drip off those metal protusions into cups of coffee. My stomach lurched at the mere thought.