“So he’s a picky eater!”

said one of the three attorneys in the elevator, whom I was sharing my latest lunch-time-street-guy-adventure with.

We laughed.

The discussion started because they asked why I had a package of Trader Joe’s Sliced Muenster Cheese in my hand. My lunch walk that day had Trader Joe’s as a destination for mints that I am ADDICTED to! (My sister Wendy once said “You are addicted to those things!” which in the realm of possible addictive substances – I don't feel too bad about.) While I was at Trader Joe's I also picked up cheese (on sale).

On the walk back to the office, I spotted a dirty, tattered guy sitting on the sidewalk along Washington Street, begging for money. I stopped in front of him, pulled out a piece of cheese from the brand new package and asked if he would like it.

He looked up at me and grunted.

Not exactly sure what the grunt meant, but I assumed it meant yes, so I extended it to him.

At the same time I was doing that, he shoved one of his grungy fingers up his left nostril, pulled it out and then stuck it in his mouth.

After which he took the cheese from my by-then-way-way-extended fingers. . .

he folded it in half. . .

held it up to his nose and SNIFFED it!

As if he was checking to see if the cheese was rotten or not...

seriously dude you just ate boogers and snot!!