So I’m standing at the stoplight waiting for the light to turn green so that I can cross the street, and I see a handwritten poster taped to the lamp post next to me. It says, “Window for rent, directly on the starting line, call blahblahblah.” I realize that it was for the Tour de France. Someone was renting the view from their window for the Tour de France.

I shake my head in amazement and can’t decide if it’s really a brilliant little business scheme or if it’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Either way, it’s pretty darn cheeky.

* * * * * * *

* * * * * * *

So I’m standing in line at the checkout in the supermarket, and a punk comes up and stands in line behind me. As the cashier is ringing up my stuff, I see that the punk - complete with fluorescent green mohawk, tattered t-shirt, military pants and scuffed boots - is buying about 25 tins of cheap beer. As I’m packing my stuff up, I see him pay for his beer with what appears to be the last bit of money that he has.

I presume that he’s going to take the beer back to his punk friends who hang out in the park or in front of the university or somewhere. They sit there all day with their numerous dogs and their more numerous bottles and cans of beer, and they occasionally ask passers-by for some spare change. I occasionally give one some change; they’re usually really nice, and I figure that maybe my change will help them buy some dog food for their dogs or something (of course, it could also help them buy 25 tins of cheap beer, but whatever).

A part of me thinks that it’s cool for them to be living the unconventional life they choose to live, even though that kind of life certainly isn’t for me. Another part of me, though, feels sorry for them, because - freedom or not - it seems like a pretty rough, miserable life, and I have to wonder if all of them are really happy struggling on the edge of existence like that.

The punk kid winds up in front of me on the escalator going back upstairs. I’m not really giving him too much thought. There’s nothing terribly interesting about him, because I figure I’ve got him, and all his friends, and his entire lifestyle pegged.

And then I hear his mobile phone start to ring.

Further reading…