While walking downtown after lunch, my husband and I passed a large man bellowing words from the gospel at passersby. He wore a black suit, had a large white cross standing beside him. A worn bible was in one hand while the other was in a fist being shaken at downtown employees scurrying for grub on their too-short lunch break.
He was unstoppable, passionate and very loud.
His booming shouts were echoing off of downtown's skyscrapers.
Eric kept glancing his way as we neared and I noticed how he made other folks a bit uncomfortable.
"I kind of like it," I said gesturing toward the corner preacher.
"Really?" Eric was a bit surprised.
"Yeah," I said. "I like to hear stuff like that on the street. I think it's cool. It's like America. It's like I live in a big city."
Eric paused and took a sip of his soda while considering my reasoning.
"It's like one time I walked back from lunch and passed one guy playing a guitar, then one guy playing a sax and another playing the flute," I offered. "All within a three-block radius and it wasn't even Mayfest!"
"No," he replied. "It was BumFest."