Short list of things I have seen on Cambridge Street while walking to and from work this month:
- A man wheeling a 25-pound sack of MSG into a restaurant.
- A woman who looked like she’d just been released from MGH, sitting in a doorway, picking listlessly at the bandages around her wrists.
- A man in scrubs who looked like he’d just gotten off work, ducking into a Beacon Hill doorway to drink from a tall-boy in a paper bag.
- A brown late-80s Chevy station wagon in the early stages of being converted to donk awesomeness: The body was ugly but rust-free, the vinyl interior was badly cracked, and the owner had installed enormous speakers and even more enormous chrome wheels (22 inches at least).
- A Ducati 1098 S piloted by a man wearing khakis and sneakers, who took both hands off the handlebars while moving to adjust his gloves. Contrary to all rules of schadenfreude and justice, he didn’t drop it.
Secretly Ironic 