Pants down in Chinatown

The intimacy that two human beings experience at the crossroads of passion and compassion is truly a blessed thing; it is a moment to be cherished, to be relished, and not to be shared with the general public.

As I was coming up the escalators out of the Metro in Chinatown (and commenting to my friends on just how much I loved this section of DC), my attention was drawn to a ruckus happening on the ground level.

We heard a man yelling "Get off that man!" over and over again. His tone wasn't desperate or panicked. It seemed like he was trying to be helpful while completely bewildered.

And I didn't know whether to be shocked or amused.

There, in the broad daylight of 2:00 p.m. on a rainy Saturday afternoon, were two men who could not postpone their cravings and wait for the nearest Starbucks bathroom (see previous blogs for proper hygiene guidelines).

The scene was incredible. Families and grannies alike were privy to this afternoon brawl. No one knew whether they should help, stare, point, laugh, ignore, or take pictures (and I'm not kidding --would love to go to that scrapbooking party).

Apparently the encounter had begun discretely, as in not in the middle of the friggin' street, yet in their haste they had pushed over two newspaper dispensers and had fallen on top of them right onto G street. Obviously there was something wrong with these two men (most notably, Dupont Circle is a good 3 Metro stops away), but they had enough clarity of thought to get their pants around their ankles and the rest is history.

I couldn't make up a story this crazy. Perhaps you'll read about it in the local newspaper. Just take my advice; give your hands a good scrubbin' after you've touched the dispenser.