Why I felt compelled to take the large ziplocked bag full of pennies from my friends house is for a journal entry all its own. Same goes for the reasons why I, once free on the street, attempted to transfer all of the coins from the bag to my pockets, only to put them back in the bag when I found it forcing me to walk noticeably cowboy-like.

So there I was downstairs at the Hynes Convention Center T-stop, sitting on one of the benches, reading a book. My mind dismissed most of the background noise of the station but I glanced up briefly when I spotted a homeless man methodically going from person to person with the same query. I couldn't make out what he was saying exactly but could easily assume one of a small handful of possibilities. His thoroughness was impressive, not letting a single person go unasked. Finished with all those standing he starts in on all of us seated.

My nose remains buried in my book. But at this point I admit I'm waiting for it.
"Spare some change?" (silence) (shuffle steps)
"Spare some change?" (silence) (shuffle steps)
"Spare some change?" (silence) (shuffle steps)
"Spare some change?" (silence) (shuffle steps)
"Spare some change?" (silence) (shuffle steps)
"Spare some change?"

KA-POW!! My arm springs away from my chest fast with the clear bag swaying heavily from my closed fist. The man is in disbelief. The bag is enormous. A quick second of silence passes as the man looks at the bag, then me, then back at the bag again. Finally he takes it and walks away. I look to my right and am greeted by a row of smiling strangers greatly amused by my unexpected response. The proud owner of the unrefutable answer they've often wished they had in situations just like this one.

"So, what were you going to do with all those?" the woman to my left asks.
"Roll them up?" I offer.

Her guess was as good as mine.