Saturday 8:00 a.m. found me at McDonald"s, enjoying SPAM and rice and eggs, and a large coffee. As I was forking up ketchup-slathered eggs, Linda jogged toward the restaurant in papaya-orange nylon shorts and matching tank top, and stopped fifteen feet from the window to do a few quick stretches. I rapped on the window, but she didn"t hear thanks to iPod tunes blasting her ears. A frantic wave garnered no results either in terms of my friend, but it did net me a crooked grin and kiss from a wall-eyed fellow in industrial green polyester shorts and a corn-yellow T-shirt displaying waltzing polar bears. That resulted in a smack to the head with a plastic rose-print bag from a portly muumuu-encased woman ambling alongside. One of his eyes looked at her in disbelief, the other at me with regre
