Last night my family and one of our friends saw Mr. Holmes at the Chicago’s Landmark Century Theatre. On our way out, we went with everyone else to pay for parking.
A cheerful man of maybe 60 was standing there. I asked if he was in front of us on the line. “No,” he replied, a bit oddly but with a friendly smile. “I would punch that machine. It’s crazy. It’s crazy out there.”
He asked my friend if she thought it was crazy out there. She replied, “I know what you mean.”
“I carry a whistle,” he told her, holding it up. “Do you carry a whistle?”
“Some people carry one on their key chain,” she replied. He asked to see her keys.
My friend understandably got a bit nervous. “I’m not going to show you my keys.”
I handed her the parking ticket, and said “Would you get on the line for me?” She went ahead to do that.
“That’s some whistle you have there,” I told him. “What kind is that?”
“A Thunderer. A policeman gave it to me. If you see anything that isn’t right, anyone who needs help, you blow the whistle. That way, people will come. I wanted to give it to her.”
He added, a bit embarrassed: “She didn’t want to show me her keys. That’s good. You have to be safe.”
We chatted amiably. I asked if I could take a picture of it so I could buy one for my friend. I thanked him for the advice. We all happily went on our way.