The sudden cancelation of one of my dance classes found me in downtown Davis past eight o’clock on Monday night. Davis is surprisingly jumping for the beginning of the week in what should be the dead zone past graduation and before the start of the fall term in a university town. I pass gaggles of girls in high heels crossing downtown streets and have to shake my head and wonder what planet I’m from that this seems strange, when me and my sneaker clad feet are so clearly in the minority.
Walking out of a chinese restaurant last night with a bag of takeout in my hand:
There's a mallard duck standing in front of me on the sidewalk.
"What are you doing here?"
We're about half a mile from the campus creek, as the duck flies. In the downtown shops and restaurants of this little college town, one of us looks out of place. He waddles up to face me, about a foot away. He's looking at my takeout bag.
"Sorry. There's nothing in there for you."
He wiggles his tail feathers.