When we finally arrived at the door, he asked if I remembered your name. I did. We had both been dancing, you at Calabash, me at Astoria. You and two transit staff hefted the wheelchair to the roadway while I helped him navigate the snow and slush. You were then reluctant to get back on the bus, showing genuine concern for two strangers. Not something that happens every day in Vancouver.  We had a bit of an adventure getting Harold and his electric wheelchair safely home through the snowy streets. I'd love to tell you about it. Coffee?