So, we are walking back from doing this radio program in downtown Pittsfield, MA, and I am accompanied by Ms. Felicia Curry: paramour of Andy Fahs, my roady pal you've heard me speak of many times; 5' 0" of insane bundled energy; rock-hard from the twice daily workouts, runs, plus the occasional golf and tennis outing; 97 lbs. soaking wet, dressed to the nines at 11:30 on a Thursday morning in a sleepy arty burg where flannel pajamas at the Price Chopper are not necessarily frowned upon. I get to witness an actual cliche.
We are walking through the little Leitchfield-esque (on steroids) main square and come to a street crossing. The Red Hand is up; the cars have the green; we have to wait.
Except...the cars aren't going. They just sit there, fronted by an ominous, giant, rednecky, muddy, dirty black pickup truck. Finally, we shrug our shoulders and cross. As we get to the median, one of the most lesbian-looking lesbians I have ever seen in my life --a life in the theatre, mind you-- complete with an actual mullet --I kid you not-- leans out of the driver's side of the pickup and says, "Ma'am, you are so beautiful there is no way I was going to go before you walked in front of me." Then she drove off.
So, I was walking with a girl who actully, really, physically stopped traffic. Cool. And you can see why.
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