Here I am minding my own business at a Center City Starbucks, settled in a deep corner table out of sight of just about everybody, nursing a "tall" (small) paper cup of hot tea, lost in reading the free Metro newspaper. Suddenly I notice a very tall and gaunt black man standing over me saying he's homeless and hungry while simultaneously two female Starbucks baristas are at his elbows, scarcely coming up to his elbows in height, telling the tall man he has to leave and he's muttering to them he's not going to he's homeless and hungry. Stalemate.
Why had he come up to me, out of all the people in the room at least a dozen? Had he passed the others by? Had he zeroed in on the only sap in the clean place who might give him a smidgen of sympathy? (Or better, money?) Granted, I was the only occupant who appeared not to be a stone-cold-heartless-absorbed-in-talk-or-a-laptop-well-dressed-and-professional-balls-to-the-wall yuppie. But still: Why me?
"They're giving away free food at City Hall," I told the man, looking at him between the two frantically upset baristas. "Right now. The Occupy people."
The three contestants moved away from me. I returned to reading my newspaper.