The Contemplator
I saw a crazy man this morning. I've actually seen him before but this morning he stood out like never before. I was riding my Vespa to work feeling quite stylish and quite Italian. I wore my jacket with the British flag on the back and dark goggles. While feeling quite chic in my mind I was hoping with all hope I would not be side swiped by a red neck in an F150 or hit on the head with a beer bottle. I suppose my black visored helmet had that later covered but the former would have been disastrous. I was motoring through West Columbia, an area that was once a suburb of Columbia and now is seemingly forgotten. It is run down, dotted by apartments and small houses that should be condemned. If that wasn't enough, the area is punctuated by a chicken plant that dispenses an odor strong enough to wrinkle the nose. There is usually a parade of interesting people out on the street but today one particular man stood out. He was probably in his 60's, of course the appar