At 2 a.m. Friday, I thought I saw a shirtless dude walking up 2nd Avenue East.
Turns out, I was waaaayyyy off. The wise gentleman was wearing a white tank top — which didn’t quiet offset his pale, bare arms. He would have been shivering in the sub-zero temperatures, but he was trying too hard to flex.
This belligerent fella was closely following two bundled-up black guys.
As I passed on my way down the avenue to my apartment, one member of the duo turned to the other and shouted, “Let’s rock him.”
They wanted to fight, but a creeping squad car sniffed out their antics. Mr. Tank Top quickly whipped a u-turn and staggered back down the avenue. The other wanna-be contenders continued up the hill.
I thought: ‘Welcome back from St. Paul, Andy.’