there's a certain personality on the streets of downtown Houston of whom i've up to now only heard legend from one of my coworkers
however in returning today from an offsite lunch i was able to bear witness to the intriguingly puzzling situation
black guy, probably in his forties or fifties, well - dressed: fedora, matching ironed slacks, dress shirt, formal tie, polished shoes.
all the above + location of downtown Houston is a normal formula for modern businessman (well the fedora would be an anachronistic touch but i digress)
what makes the detour to crazytown is that he spends his time standing on the corner yelling angrily at the crosswalk signs.
what's more, apparently his ire is reserved solely for the "walk" stick figure; whenever the "don't walk" hand is visible he has nothing to say.
the concepts of 'well-groomed' and 'arguing with inanimate objects' are as incongruous as oil and water or toothpaste and orange juice.
it's so baffling and interesting that i felt compelled to stick around and listen to the details of his complaints against "WALK" guy. unfortunately midwestern sensibilities prevented me from openly gawking at the spectacle so the true nature of his beef will likely remain a mystery.