Just Let Me Walk in Peace

The time: Late afternoon, Monday

The place: My beloved Liberty Park (home of my flamingos)

The scene: There I was, power walking around the park, when lo and behold a skeevy, possible crack smoker (sorry, but it's true) walks up next to me and starts a conversation.

Skeevy the Crack Smoker: How's your exercise routine?

Pinky the Power Walker (wearing headphones and listening to music, btw): Um, fine.

Skeevy the Crack Smoker: That's quite a brisk pace you're keeping.

Pinky the Power Walker: Thanks.

Skeevy the Crack Smoker: When will you start jogging? I talked to you before, right?

Pinky the Power Walker: I don't jog, I walk. No, I don't believe so.

Skeevy the Crack Smoker: Oh? No jogging? Weren't you just getting out of the hospital? We talked about your health issues?

Pinky the Power Walker: Nope, wasn't me. Sorry.

And, scene.

Wow, talk about an unwelcome and awkward conversation. Why would someone talk to a person who's walking, listening to music, and obviously otherwise engaged? So weird. Poor Cracky.