3 August, approximately 5pm. The L'enfant Plaza Metro station, Washington DC, waiting for the Orange Line train to Clarendon.
Panhandler approaches, asks for fifty cents. As is my custom, I pretend to be deaf and blind and unable to acknowledge existence of panhandler. Also, this was the very subway station in which I threw up, on a previous visit, due to overindulgence in alcohol, and I was trying to see if I could remember exactly where I hurled.
Panhandler moves on. Several feet away, he asks a man for fifty cents. Man digs in pocket, proffers quarter.
Panhandler is annoyed. "No. I need fifty cents. I don't need no quarter. I need fifty cents."
Man extends quarter, perhaps feeling that panhandler is simply politely protesting his generosity.
Panhander continues: "No, I need fifty cents! I know you're gay! But I need fifty cents!"
(Based on the yamulke and the copy of a Chaim Potok novel in his hand, I'd have pegged him for observably Jewish rather than observably gay, but whatever.)
Man returns quarter to pocket. Panhandler walks off.
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