A lazy and depressing morning without H- resulted in a 1/16th mile walk to the local gym. While navigating bushes along the narrow sidewalk, which is dangerously close to a busy street, I saw a woman in fitness gear approaching. “Hmm…maybe she’s cute,” I thought. As the distance between us closed and I proceeded to verify my hope, I heard a car slow beside me. I turned. In the car was a sixty-ish year old woman with her window rolled down, also in fitness gear.

“Do you know where G- park is?” she asked.

“Yep, it’s right before the light that’s a half-mile behind you on the left.”

A confused look slowly began to subside, but not completely. “Where?” she asked again.

“Just make a U-turn here, and right before that stop light back there, take a left. It has a purple playground.”

“Oh. Thanks,” she said, still not confident that she has the skills necessary to make the half-mile journey.

“Actually, wait,” I said, “that’s not G- park. That’s P- park. My mistake.”

Losing color in the same pattern as a water ripple extending from a dropped stone, a new terror spread across her face.

“No worries. G- Park is just across the street from P- park. It’s through the stop light and on the right. It has a lake with geese. Just as easy to get to, though I’m not sure where you’re going to park. I always walk there since I live so close.”

The woman was in a state of despair usually reserved for cataclysmic events like city-wide black-outs, tsunamis, or terrorist attacks. She then asked, “Will you just get in and take me there?”

I think this means I’d make a good confidence man.