I used to shop at the old Albertson's on Second South, partly because it was close to home and partly because it was always an urban trip whenever I went there--especially in the 80's before downtown got so gentrified. One thing I noticed was that (oddly and inexplicably) there were often spontaneous theme nights going on. Like one night all the customers would be hookers. Or one night all the customers would be old ladies with thick bra straps showing. Or one night all the customers would be gangsters buying bouquets of dyed carnations. And one night--I am not exaggerating here (or at least I'm not exaggerating very much)--I was the only customer in the produce department who had all my limbs.
So yeah. Theme nights.
Anyway, I relived those heady days of the 80s when I was running in Liberty Park today, because we came damn near close to having a theme morning. It was Random-People-Shouting-Random-Things-at-Me. It wasn't personal. I was just the person there when everyone (apparently) was having some sort of psychotic break. The guy on the bike. The guy at the bus stop. The guy with the shopping cart beneath the pine tree. It was . . . weird.
But kind of wonderfully nostalgic at the same time.