This morning I was uncharacteristically early for work. So early, in fact, I had time to stop at McDonald's for a McGriddle, which can be ordered with a hash brown and a coffee. I got my coffee black, and my hash brown golden brown. And my McGriddle? Delicious!

Anyway, as I was walking to work with my breakfast, still early, I almost got hit by a car, which would have probably made me late. Some fella was apparently running late, so he was in a rush to get somewhere and in his haste, nearly ran me down as I crossed the street. I ran a bit quicker and he swerved a bit wider, so our paths did not officially cross, though they were darn close. If he did hit me, I don't think he would have stopped. He had that "hit and run" look about him.

As I walked away with my new lease on life, I thought about how sad that would have been to see me lying there dead on Broadway, with some filthy pieces of New Year's Eve confetti still scattered about, and my McGriddle, unmolested in all its goodness, alive with flavor, next to a dead man who never got to have the last meal he would have wanted.

That would have probably been the picture in the NY Post. A shot of a couple of cops milling about, waiting for the coroner, and little pieces of cardboard on the ground indicating evidence, one next to my McGriddle, one next to my hash brown and one next to my walkman, which would have probably, by that point, been on track 11 of Think Tank by Blur. The headline would have been "McHit and McRun".

Isn't it nice to be alive? The correct answer to that question is, "Yeah, sure. Whatever."