baltimore, despite its naysayers, has some pretty wonderful things going for it.  melania, for one.  also, a nice slice of pure american history.  and i don't hate their crab pretzels (yes, you read that right).  my ass does, maybe, but that's a story for my personal trainer in 20 years.  

the city also has a few surprises up its colonial, white linen sleeve.  just about the last thing you would expect to see at a bar at 1 am is my dignity a sketch artist, sober as a judge, practicing his technique by drawing the crowd around him.  now i'm sure this particular man was not the first to make use of a captive audience; however, it was the first time i was perceptive enough to witness such an unanticipated display of artistry. and so therefore it warrants a blog post.  

to make a short story even shorter, after i rattled off 100 questions about his training/his materials/'is your beret for real or are you just in the halloween spirit?,' he asked if he could sketch my eyes. it pains me to type that sentence because, no matter how you write it, it sounds a hell of a lot like kate asking leo to paint her, naked as a jay bird, wearing a rock that would make kim kardashian sweat.  but i assure you, it was about as non-creepy as it gets.  

i'm not exaggerating when i say it took him five minutes to do.  most days, i can't even string a thought together in five minutes!  life is cruel.  and, well, i think i've looked in enough mirrors to say he is a pretty talented guy.  

not bad, baltimore.  not bad.