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I’m going to a party tonight and I needed to fetch my little black dress from the dry cleaners.
Happy Hanks is just a few blocks from my house. So, I jumped into my car and roared off.
I stopped at the robot. Eight street vendors appeared at the window.
I bought a homeless magazine, a mop and a feather duster that I didn’t need. I also bought a cell phone charger and had my perfectly clean windscreen washed.
I continued and pulled off to the side. I jumped out of the car, wiped the soap suds off the window, jumped back in, bought another homeless magazine and resumed my journey.
I avoided the road rage incidents, the battered taxis and the brash BMW drivers. I also avoided the potholes and the paper recyclers, and I made it to Happy Hanks with plenty of time to spare.
Four parking attendants showed me where to park. I locked the car, bought a couple of dishcloths from a Zimbabwean, had my usual chat with the Congolese drummer, and went to pick up my dress.
It wasn’t ready.
"Come back in an hour or so", said the cheerful assistant.
I paid the haggling car guards, drove off, and stopped at the robot. The eight vendors appeared again. I bought another homeless magazine. I paid the guy not to wash my window, and gave him my Vida coffee and a half finished Danish from my back seat.
He thanked me and gave me his homeless magazine. It struck me that I had so many homeless magazines. I was now fully qualified to be homeless too.
Before I could leave, two more men appeared, selling newly released DVD's. Feeling only a tinge of guilt, I bought one: 'Harry Potter Eight', the new one. The one JK Rowling hasn’t even written yet.
I’m going to stay home tonight and watch the movie. I should be going to the party, but I need to wear a black dress. I just don’t have the energy to go pick it up again.
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