Walking to an out-of-the-way restaurant with a companion on a freezing Chicago night, I expressed concern about our defenseless pedestrian status in this particular neighborhood at this late hour.
"We're not going to run into any roving gangs on a night like this," he claimed.
"It's not roving gangs I'm worried about," I replied. "It's the lone lunatic who worries me."
Minutes later, a police car cruised past us, then stopped. The officer on the passenger side rolled down his window and called out, "Have you seen a guy run past?"
"No!" we called back, looking at each other. "What does he look like?"
"The guy's naked from the waist up," the cop yelled back. "He doesn't have shoes on, and he runs like a deer!"
The police sped off, leaving us with my fear confirmed. As we braced ourselves against the icy wind, I knew that anyone dressed that way probably wouldn't last long on a night like this.
It was a frosty day, and the seller of Streetwise in the Loop was enthusiastically hawking his wares: "Streetwise, Streetwise, buy Streetwise, help the homeless." I had decided not to make the purchase and was walking by when I distinctly heard him say, "Buy my last copy so I can go home."