My brother’s in town from Chicago, and last night I was driving him to his hotel room. We went down Wythe Street in Old Town, not far from where our parents used to live, on North Columbus, and we were remarking on how odd it was to see white people walking their dogs on Wythe Street in Old Town at 11:20 p.m. We got to his hotel, realized he’d left his bag at our place, and went back home, back up Wythe. A block before the Metro stop, I heard a THUNK against the rear gate of my Toyota, then saw some kids running away. I got out and saw I’d been egged! On the way back to the hotel, my brother and I drove slowly down the block, looking to jump out and try to scare the behayzeus out of the kids. He rolled up—-this is so embarrassing—-the current issue of the City Paper, Jason Bourne—like, to resemble a weapon. We rolled past the low-rises, but it was all getting a bit Herc and Carver, and anyway, lucky for us, we never found ’em. I’m pretty sure if we ran at those kids they’d just laugh at the old guys wielding newspapers. Our bluff called, we’d be forced to retreat to the omeletmobile.
It was a real pain to scrub the egg off the back. That stuff dries quickly.