Meccanized

Ever since I was hit by a crazy person outside of my apartment, I have been noticeably jumpy around people who look…well…crazy.  Whenever someone lurches towards me on the sidewalk — a move that is often accompanied by one or more of the following: arm flailing, screaming, urinating, swearing or throwing things — I tense up.  In writing, that actually sounds pretty normal.  That said, I often just get nervous when I walk alone and see someone in my path who looks even remotely shady. 

This morning, I was out for a stroll in the gray, wet mist of an SF September, and I found myself in the gaze of  a homeless person lounging at the edge of Lafayette Park.  When he got up and started moving towards me, fight or flight kicked in.  I’m all flight, so I got ready to run and reached for my giant whistle, which until this point has only been used (very successfully, I might add) to herd friends at birthday bar crawls.  

But then…

In a move that truly surprised me (and I’m not easily surprised)…

The man told me I was very pretty as he handed me a flower that he had picked from a nearby bush.  It almost had the sweet feel of a mid-80′s John Cusack movie (“Say Anything” comes to mind), if I were Ione Skye and John Cusack were a grizzled homeless guy named Barry.  

Just when I am ready to give up on this city, something like this happens.  Seriously, made my weekend.