My Crazy Valentine
My co-worker was going to cover me at night.
I put together a nice picnic dinner, with silverware and fancy plates, some blankets and firewood. A romantic private feast, with a little reading of Dickens via my kindle.
Gasworks Park would be perfect - fireplace and covered tables.
My Valentine of 37 years helped me lug all the stuff from the parking lot to the picnic area. It's brightly lit, not what I had in mind. I started building the fire, and soon a half-dozen homeless guys were chatting us up, giving advice on the construction of my fire, talked with us about police and out-of-control teens, and cool parks department workers. The next 90 minutes was all about love. We passed the Triscuits and swiss cheese around, fresh black berries were appreciated, and grapes. And Cheetos too.
When it was time to go, we decided that Richard needed the blankets worse than we did. We left the extra food with Steve. The others had drifted off to get settled in for the night, or make a final run to the market for beer.
Down the way, a drum circle was forming.
Yup. Just another fabulous Valentine's Day in the city. My wife loved it. "Why be normal?" That's us.