About fifteen minutes ago the sax music got more cheerful. About ten minutes ago it became apparent that the sax man was no longer alone. I peered out my third floor window and I saw something that was only slightly less unlikely than a man panhandling: two people from another department getting married. It turns out the basket was for wedding gifts, not donations for the sax man.

Riding into work this morning I was fairly expectation free, but I’ll admit that I was a little surprised by a lunch hour wedding.

My office is in the very back of our office complex. My office window does not face any of the other buildings. There is one, mostly deserted sidewalk, between my office and Tampa Bay.

Can someone tell me why there is a man with an empty wicker basket, playing saxophone outside my office window?

He’s really quite good; but since there is an empty training suite below me, many of my co-workers are out of the office, and no one is walking on that sidewalk – all that effort is just for me, and I don’t have and cash on me. His music sounds somewhat sad. There’s a hopeless quality to it which is all the more appropriate, based on where he’s chosen to play.