I accosted Suzie Q. Public, a thirty-something, large-eyed brunette of average build, in the Kansas City Core. She was drinking coffee and reading the New Yorker. I grabbed a cup of coffee at the counter and sat down at the table next to her.

"Hi, howya doin'?"

"Fine," she said, glancing up from her magazine.

"I'm David Walters, cub reporter for Downtown Kansas City."

"I know, I've seen you swaggering around town in your gray beret," she said, smiling wanly.

"Are you familiar with Downtown Kansas City?"

"Yes, and you should be more concise."

"Concise? I see you're reading the New Yorker."

"So?"

"It's one of the most unconcise journals in American history."

"I like it."

"Did you read the one that went on and on about that plastic cow on a pole in Kansas City, the Hereford Association sign?"

"No. But you should be concise."

"Many of my pieces are around five-hundred words."

"That's too many," she said.

"Maybe you're right. Attention spans are pretty short now that the water is chlorinated," I suggested, disappointed - the lady's criticism obviously did not appertain to the number of my words but rather with the quality of my writing, or perhaps the nature of my opinions. She put her elbow up on the table and began reading again.

"Looks like Downtown Kansas City is going to rock," I persisted. "Lots of development is going to take place around here. Business is coming back downtown."

"Why?" she quizzed.

"Why? Because of what business loves the most."

"What's that?"

"Money."

"Why downtown?"

"Real estate is cheap downtown, and the city will help out developers with the Tax Slush Fund. There's going to be an entertainment district a block away from here, you know, H&R Block will move downtown for that, and the performing arts center will be moved south - that might work like Lincoln Center, result in further uptown development, in the Crossroads District, eradicating the blight..."

"To tell you the truth," Mz. Public interjected, "I could care less about what they do downtown."

"Where are you from? Have you been to Chicago or New York City?"

"No. I''m from several places."

"Hmm, Several Places - I've been to Several Places," I said.

She was not amused. "I could care less what they do downtown," she said as she shoved her copy of the New Yorker aside. "They want Kansas City to be like New York City, but this is a Midwestern city and they should just accept it like it is. What they need to do is nothing."

"What do you like about it?"

"You can skate down the middle of the street after they roll the sidewalks up."

"I like that! I will quote you."

"You can't quote me."

"Why not?"

"That would be unethical" she emphasized. "I don't want to be quoted. It would invade my privacy."

"I understand. Quoting your cliches might subject you to considerable public embarassment. I will quote an anonymous source then, as saying, When people go home to the burbs, the downtown sidewalks are rolled up and you can skate down the middle of the street."

"They might know it is me...", she responded worriedly.

"Don't worry, it's impossible to identify the source of a cliche," I assured her.

"Okay," she seemed relieved. "So do you want to go roller skating with me this weekend? The hills are thrilling downtown."

"I don't have skates."

"You can borrow my boyfriend's skates. He's size thirteen like you, and he'll be out of town this weekend."

"How perspicacious of you to notice my feet!" I was pleased. "Sure, I'd be glad to skate with you."

"Meet me here on Saturday, at eleven in the morning."

Kansas City Missouri
December 19, 2003