Why yes, I can

Sometimes I feel as though I've lived here in Madison an eternity. Biking home from the library just now, I seemed to recognize every third person. Look, there's Matt Sloan, the Wis-kino guy. Look, there's Kelli Kaalele, who books shows at Cafe Montmartre and elsewhere. When did I become a local?

At one point in my journey home, being a local was like to kill me. I was turning from King Street onto Wilson, downtown, and a woman leaned her head out of a car and yelled, "Can you tell me where the Hilton is?"

Reflexively, I braked to an abrubt halt. My tires skidded. Fortunately, no cars were behind me, or it could have been ugly. I paused a nanosecond, pointed and said, "It's just there on the left."

She thanked me. Then I spotted Shirley Manson. Kidding!