Friday, 08 November 2002 | Rip

I was carrying a giant bunch of flowers (as big as if I had just won a pageant), a bowling bag containing a handbag, a discman, and a disorganized stash of papers, and a plastic bag holding a vase I borrowed from the office.

First he asked me if I wanted to buy two bikes, then one, and then he said he wasn't really interested in selling the bikes at all. What he really wanted was exactly 75 cents. Then he mentioned that he was not only homeless, poor, and hungry, but that his mom had just died.

I was skeptical of his story, but I thought, what the hell, and rearranged my things so that I could pull out 50 cents for him. Dropped a coin, heard the metal land and circle on the concrete. When I bent over to pick it up, my favorite pants screamed out, one important section suddenly divorcing itself from another important section. "Here's 50," I said, and walked off down the street, noticing a brand new breeze.

The rest of my birthday has been good so far. The generosity of my coworkers is genuinely impressive.