Village Idiot in Treetown

Very little can put a damper on a sunny summer afternoon and leisurely lunch on Main Street in Ann Arbor. Cool breezes blowing. Cloud-dotted blue skies. Happy people with calm, respectful children and well-behaved pets. Prompt, smiling servers coming and going with trays full of fresh-brewed iced tea and club sandwiches. Lingering smells of barbecue and jasmine in the air . . . . and my fully ambulatory brother-in-law rolling down the sidewalk in a wheelchair soliciting tips for his efforts to antagonize the whopping 1 or 2 peaceful panhandlers wandering around town.


I'm probably the only person in Ann Arbor who keeps my doors locked during the day.
This is why.

Sometimes I'm sure I must be living in some sort of bizarro Seinfeld episode.