It's kind of raining and nasty out and ringing my new bell for no particular reason as I ride home from voting and the hardware store and a lunch of Mexican hangover-helping deep-fried flautas. I love you, Hidalgo (though checking the spelling on google, I discover that you're no longer called Hidalgo. But I still love you, Original Mexican Food Deli, even if that doesn't have the same ring to it)!
I voted for Obama (but also pulled the lever for Clinton rep David Dinkens because he's a right honorable gentleman). I was disturbed to find more than a few registered Republicans living on my block.
On the wet street under the train tracks, I see what looks like money. My first thought is that's it probably some one of those "$1,000,000" bills and homey don't fall for that trick. My smarter second thought is, no, it's probably money.
It is. Wet run-over money. I greedily scoop up bill after bill of slimy cash. I think I have them all when another bike approaches, stops, and in an Eastern Europeans accent, grabs one a few feet away that I missed and says, "this one's mine."
I bike the last block home with adrenaline is coursing through my veins. Before I lock my bike, I count my loot--four 20s and two 10s--$100!