Lions, and Tigers, and Dial-Up, and - oh my!

I'm braving the primative outback of dial-up internet because I simply have to share this with you. It would be too miserly of me to hoard this story for myself.

I left work at 3:20pm to hand deliver a check for our bulk mail business account. For some reason, although I trust the post office with my rent check and personal correspondence, I don't trust it to deliver a check to itself. I inherited this distrust from other professionals in the mailing industry. Everyone I meet insists on deposting these checks directly, in person, to the USPS bulk mail office.

Thus, off I went, as personal courrier to the main Boston office. I exited work and saw the Silver Line bus zoom past. Knowing I had some time to kill before the next one would arrive (crawling at a snails pace according to the Grand Theory of Bus Physics Section 2, Parts A & B: (A)All buses travel at breakneck speed, except the one approaching your bus stop and (b) the one you're riding). Instead of waiting at the closest stop, I decided to walk to the next one, two blocks up. It was a nice day and I was wearing good walking shoes, so why not?

Don't ever ask why not while traversing down an urban street, for the gods will inevitably answer you.

Half way to the stop, after passing the curious rundown burial ground (unlike the burial grounds in downtown Boston, this one is perpetually locked, denying all entry. It is, therefore, infinitly more interesting than the ones open to tourists) and then a Salvation Army building (housed, somewhat ironically in terms of this story, in a former post office building). Next is a public housing compound, and between it and Washington Street is a fenced in playground area.

As I approached the public housing and its playground, a gaunt aged man (whose appearance, I'm guessing, had more to due with substance abuse than age) meanderingly jay-walked his way across the street and approached the fence surrounding the empty playground.

I thought very little of this. People jaywalk in the city as if crosswalks and crazed SUV drivers don't exist, and the appearance of this half-hazard man was not abnormal for this part of the city. The "gentrified" island of the South End where I work is surrounded by a very large ungentrified area.

I would have taken no notice of this man, except a bit of pity for another seemingly wasted life, if his hand had not reached for the fly of his jeans a milli-second before walking up against the fence.

Oh no, I thought, he's not going to -

Oh, but he did.

He proceeded to very discreetly urinate against the playground fence (a black, wrought-iron bar fence, mind you. Not a solid brick wall or wooden privacy fence.). Don't worry, there weren't any impressionable children playing on the playground.

Just me, walking past.

As soon as my fears were confirmed (of course I had to look. And you would have to, don't deny it.) I turned my head and quickly walked the remaining length of the block.

For awhile I felt a presence behind me as if he were following me, but it was just my memory of him, trailing behind.

This is not, of course, the first time I've witnessed public urination. The first time I was 16, and in Paris, and the man decided that a potted plant decorating the entrance to a bistro would be just the spot. But it was late evening and there was the shrowding cover of darkness and it blended with the exotic nature of being in a foreign country without parents (I am not saying that I took this as normal French behavior. Merely, that as everything else was so foreign, why not peeing in public?)

And then there was the incident of flagrant public urination. Rebes, Jenna, and I were driving to Florida for spring break. In southern Georgia the interstate is six lanes separated by a wide green expanse of grass. Some guy deemed this grassy median - in full view of both directions of traffic - would be the perfect place to relieve himself. And yes, even driving by at close to 70mph, you notice that.

The gaunt man urinating at the fence in broad daylight was perhaps the most discreet fully public urination I have ever witnessed. If only he waited a split-second longer to reach for his crotch. I probably never would have noticed. He would have been some strung-out dude leaning on a fence.

But his timing was just that bit off.

And timing is everything.