I witnessed a rather awkward and interesting drug deal when I got off the bus this evening. One party was in his late twenties or early thirties, roughly a peer of mine. The other was older, hobbled, a broken old man from the nursing home across the street.

I was on top of them quickly, catching both by surprise. A bottle of pills and a wad of cash changed hands.

The old man walked away with the money. Back to the nursing home and away from the cold.

Things, as they are wont to do in this city, then got weirder.

The buyer and I were walking in the same direction, albeit at different angles. Our paths diverged and as they reconvened, he spoke to me, inquiring where I got my hair cut. Before I could answer, he went on to list his full repertoire of services – scissors cut, razer cut, fades. Shampoo. Conditioner. He’d even touch up my beard.

I politely responded that I cut my own hair and continued on towards home.

I feel it’s safe to say that this weekend started off on a very odd foot.