Overheard On McNair Ave.

It had been cold, like below 20 degrees, for a little over a week. Then the weather broke. It was a sunny 62 degrees in January. In St. Louis, that's like finding money. It's actually like finding the money you just put in a stripper's thong, but that's a different story. The unfortunate part is most people don't get to enjoy days like this because they have to go into some place of business. Luckily, I'm not most people. The world is my office, as long as there's an Internet connection. So I plan a day of working in some of my favorite places around the neighborhood. And since the weather is so nice I'm totally going to walk.

There's only one catch. By sundown, the temperature is supposed to drop 50 degrees. This isn't optimal. It's not a deal breaker either. I'll put on a pair of big-boy pants. Toss my devices and some layers of clothing into my backpack a get moving. A nice early walk in exchange for a shitty late one* And if rugby has taught me anything, it's that 50-degree temperature changes are completely manageable as long as you've got a flexible wardrobe and a fuck-it attitude.

But before I get to where I'm going I plan on stopping by the absolutely overrated Blues City Deli (BCD).** I'm going to grab an Italian Beef and a Cheerwine to enjoy on my walk. As usual, BCD is packed. And don't give me any "the line moves fast" bullshit. Because FUCK waiting in a line that wraps around the building for a deli sandwich. I only deign to wait in line this day because the weather is gorgeous and I can read a book in line.

Having a book to read is key because the line at BCD is always filled with tourists. By tourists, I mean County folk, a.k.a suburbanites. They're the people who show up in the city for work, sporting events, concerts, and, yes, restaurants. Then they retreat back to the homogenous nooks of our fair metropolis with tales of crime, grime and people of various colors. Seriously, fuck these people. Last time I checked sandwiches are available everywhere. Enjoy one elsewhere. Because you're likely persona non grata here.

Smell that? That's honestly earned contempt.

So, I read a book. I order a sandwich. I grab TWO Cheerwines. I receive a sandwich. Then I go about my jolly-fucking way.

As I leave some I'm on the opposite side of the street as three tourists who are speaking almost too loudly and this happens (Names have been changed to protect the innocent.):

County Slob 1: See, I'd love to live down here in one of these old historic houses and be able to walk to bars and restaurants, ... (This is the spot where there should be a "but" However, the "but" never came as he looked and made eye contact with me. They kind of eye contact someone makes before they're caught doing something.)

County Slob 2: Dude, what...?

County Slob 1: (tries to subtly nod in my direction)

Me: (silently. "Yes... what, indeed?" While making this face)

(Followed by an AWKWARD silence. I mean like 5-7 seconds of silence. Time that. It's a long time)

It seemed like time stopped. Like that scene at the beginning of Deadpool. A stop-motion car wreck. Me cast as Deadpool and each of them the "guy in the brown pants." But then the frame unfroze, and we all went our separate ways. Them relieved. Me unsurprised.

Before I reached the end of the block I walked past a lady walking her dog. She was pleasant in a wholesome June Cleaver way. We exchanged pleasantries and talked about how fleeting the good weather would be. As we parted ways she said, "I get so tired of those crowds at Blues City Deli."

Me too, sister. Me too.

* Technically I could've taken an Uber, but where's the adventure in that.
** Don't even @ me about Blues City Deli. I can name five places as good if not better. There are three on The Hill alone.