It is incredibly windy in Boston today, but the wind brings with it one of my favorite characters of the city - the street sailor. Perhaps one of the things I love most about living in the same place for a while is that you get familiar with the cast of "strangers" you see on a regular basis - the guy with the paw-print tattoos I always seem to spot on the T, the woman with silver hair who faithfully walks her tiny white dog on Newbury Street every Saturday, the young woman eternally studying at the library as I browse the latest nonfiction arrivals.
The street sailor is no exception. Flying across Copley Square on his homemade, wind-powered scooter, it's impossible to not brighten up at the sight of him. I have no idea what his name is, what his occupation might be, or even how many years he has under his belt (he moves too quickly to tell), but I am always heartened to see him, skillfully gliding his Razor through the crowds of people milling about. He's out in rare form today - I caught him balancing his entire contraption on his chin for the benefit of a few young boys who looked on in awe.
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