When possible I like to run errands on foot. I did so today. On a side street off of Davenport, I was approaching one of those cement mixer trucks parked next to one of the 180 condo high rises going up in the city. The truck was parked on the sidewalk that I was on. I was just prepared to cross the street to the other sidewalk when the driver of the truck came out from behind the steering wheel, jumped onto the sidewalk and then came to see me.
“Excuse me,” said the man with the hard hat and other safety gear, “my name is Andy.” He stretched out his hand for a handshake which I happily obliged. “I was wondering if you could pray for me.”
“I sure will, Andy. Are you going through stuff?” I asked.
“Yes, I am, so please pray for me.”
“I will do that.”
Andy returned back to his post, back to work. I noticed some of his coworkers took a side glance at Andy and the man of the cloth momentarily. Not sure what they were thinking, but it’s good they were thinking.
At Davenport I had to cross the four lane expanse. Traffic was crawling along. I hadn’t yet made it fully across, half way actually, when a motorist rolled down his window and said excitedly, “Hey! I danced with you guys last Saturday! I can’t believe it!”
“At Nuit Blanche, at Queen’s Park?” I asked while standing by his car’s side.
“Exactly! You were singing.”
“Hope you had a good time?”
“Yeah man! It was a blast!” I finally got across to the sidewalk and was at peace within, thinking about how crossing a street can bring magic. Of course the robes made a difference in terms of getting noticed and having some interaction. People must get tired of seeing blue denim. Sometimes I’m referred to as the moving traffic cone. Once I was called an orange bear. At least it was the clothes that attracted and initiated short but meaningful exchanges.