D.O.P.-T. (yesterday)

One day last week, they closed a busy block in the neighborhood to dig huge trenches in the roadway. (The only warning I saw was one-day no parking signs in one place, the day before.) Traffic was detoured all the way around the park; as I walked past on the way home from the bus stop, a worker grabbed a sign from the back of a truck to mark a sharp right turn, and soon after I watched a bus painfully negotiate it onto the deliberately curvy residential street. Luckily they don't run articulated buses on that route. Then I saw a woman do a rapid U-turn and get out of there rather than drive the detour. The bus stop by the park is used by some disabled people; I wonder where they were supposed to catch it.

D.O.P.-T.

A profitable night last night, and I only had to throw two guys out. On Friday night, while Old Guy was taking one of his long smoke breaks, I was buttonholed by a guy who speaks as if he has few teeth left and gesticulates wildly; he always spins the same yarns about all the rock concerts he went to in his youth and how he rode with the Hell's Angels, and this time he was telling me something about the Sicilian Mafia. I'd call him an old codger, but the age he claims to be is the same as mine.