Oct. 27, CHICAGO. Reading in funky indie bookstore. Carries hard-to-find books, including some that -- middle-aged square that I am -- I'm glad are hard to find. At first, it's just the staffer and me. Wait to see what happens. Discover staffer takes great photos of depressed towns and turns them into booklets. I buy one. Pal's Drive-In would be his kind of place, too. Pore over photo booklet. Two friends stop by. We play with bookstore's blow-up alien. Man comes in -- neatly combed hair, no leather, no piercings, a little older than me -- looking for the reading. We talk about pacifism, history of war, comparative religions, finding peace... His name is Fred. He waves goodbye from the door, my book in his hand. Fred, wherever you are, thanks for the great conversation. Conclusion: Waiting paid off in a wonderful evening of random pleasures.