On The Hook For A Ferrari

I was lingering outside the morning meeting today, talking with a friend, when a guy strolls up and asks about the meeting.  He was scruffy, clearly on the streets.  We explained that the meeting had ended but that we were there every day at 7AM.  He launches into his life story, unbidden - he has had enough, he is through, he has had it.  Henry and I both had sport coats on so he mentioned that he was a "professional guy," too.  I'm amazed when someone on the tail end of a bad bender tries to impress us.  It's the beat up drunk looking in a mirror and seeing Brad Pitt.

I told him that there was a noon meeting every day at the downtown clubhouse, about 3 blocks away.  By the park.  Right down the street.

He looked vaguely in the direction of downtown.  

"Oh," he said.  "Way over there?"

I wondered if he had some pressing appointments that day but I kept my mouth shut.  I texted Henry later and told him I'd buy him a Ferrari if that guy showed up the next day.  There's a big, big difference between saying something and doing something.