At lunch i stopped to let a little old man cross the street. he waved. i nodded. he got about halfway and heard a car coming. stopped – directly in front of my car – turned around, waved to the passing car. He waited for the car to be out of his site before he continued and when he FINALLY made it to the other side of the street, i waited to make sure he got on the sidewalk but instead of continuing on his merry way, he approached my passenger window. dear god, help. He waved, smiled his toothless smile, i nodded. he tried to squeeze his hand through the 4″ gap of the window so like a total dumbass i rolled the window down. he extended his hand and, still being a dumbass, i extended mine. he latched on. like a polar bear holding tight to a seal swimming upstream, he clenched my hand. I replied to his overly affectionate gesture with “you’re all good, get on the sidewalk” but he preferred to talk about my husband, almost demanding to know his whereabouts. Through gritted teeth i said my husband was at work and insisted he GET ON THE SIDEWALK. I took my foot off the brake and let the car roll just a bit, but instead of backing up, he seemed to press his entire body against the side of my car, like a wood fly stuck on the windshield. he just wouldn’t move! He asked for my address, i gave him a simple “No” and insisted HE GET ON THE M’er F’ing SIDEWALK! He gave no indication of releasing my hand so i flipped my sunglasses up and gave him “the look,” the look that has cleared bars and made children cry.  He immediately dropped my hand, said he would go pray for me and continued on his way.