I interviewed a man for a story yesterday in P-B. As I walked to the small cafe that we were meeting at, I nearly slipped and fell. I had stepped in a pile of dog shit that some dude, probably walking his pit bull, had walked away from. Maybe he was busy tweeting about his dog shitting on the sidewalk, or, composing his next Facebook post. Who knows?
So there I stood, shoes covered in shit, late for my interview. I did my best to rub it off. I shuffled my feet in a small patch of dirt before entering the cafe.
The interview lasted for over an hour. All I can think about was if he could smell the shit on my shoes. I obviously couldn't. I wouldn't know if it was smothered on my face.
'Should I ask him if he smelled anything foul?' I thought as he talked. 'No, because then I would have to explain,' I responded.
The conversation repeated in my head during the entire interview.
Good thing he was a talker.
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6 years ago