On Saturday night Susan took a ride with her little sister into the greatest city in the world. They were on a mission to move out ninety eight percent of her niece's belongings from the dorm she occupies at sleep away art school.
While the other two were packing everything up Susan's job was to read the paper and chase panhandlers away from the car.
She did an admirable job with both tasks.
The niece kept only what she could transport home on the train the next night; a change of clothes and an iPod. Shortly after goodbye kisses and begining their drive home, Susan and her little sister witnessed a bicyclist smack into a couple as they all crossed paths at a corner.
Somehow, no one hit the ground.
The bicyclist managed to get knocked off the bike, but stay on his feet, propelled by the energy of the collision into a sort of fast walk toward the line of cars waiting at the red light. He didn't stop, he just kept walking like an over-wound robotic Frankenstein until it became evident that he was drunk.
He was wearing a mohawk hat.
The girls roared with laughter and tuned the radio station to Xmas music.