if newspapers still paid for quirky features

I would write about street flower salespeople. Baltimore is the first place I have seen these individuals in the actual streets (as opposed to just a curbside operation). Politely weaving in and out of cars on 29th and 33rd, they always smile and give me a thumbs up as I wait for the light to change. Not asking for a handout, nor a pity purchase, just a friendly offer of bouquets wrapped in plastic. Sometimes ribbon is involved.

I would find Eduardo, or Rafael, as I imagine he is named, a rags-to-riches hopeful who wakes at dawn to carefully arrange his bouquets of roses or non-descript daisy look-a-likes that men can use to beg forgiveness, charm a second date, or use to get out of going to his girlfriend's best friend's Pictionary game night. I would describe how they have stories for each of their flowers, recommendations for colors and particular arrangements based on the kind of car you drive. I would hunt down their wholesale distributor, and ask just how lucrative the streetside flower sales industry is these days (as it could be impolite or not necessarily accurate to ask the salespeople themselves).

Maybe it would be an NPR feature and I could hone in on the audio of the cars rushing by and the rustling of the cellophane against his windbreaker sleeve. Or maybe more of a Frontline spot, with video of his shuffling feet and the typical "no thanks" hand up from a stopped driver. Either way it will end with a pithy quote about how he feels about his life and what he looks for in the future, or, if I'm lucky, some metaphor he comes up with for how flowers help us relate to the world around us.

Keep your eyes out for it, my friends.