Knives and kisses

Some of the guys insist that the type of music we play affects who comes in. I always doubted it, but today we were pumping out Stro Elliot, and a soulful young black guy with a collar of gold necklaces stopped in front of the shop. I was watching him talk and gesture as he walked slowly down the street, talking into the camera that his friend,walking backwards in front of him, was holding up. We said hi to each other and he said something about his birthday, and I said my birthday just passed, and he ran over and gave me a high five across the tandem bike I was standing behind, first with one hand, then both. We chatted for a second, hands still raised, then he leaned in and gave me a nuzzly kiss on the cheek. What! It seemed good-hearted and funny. He seemed high. He said they were making a documentary about the meaning of life. I extracted myself as he pulled up my hand for another kiss. He said his name was, "Frankie baby." He clarified. "Not Frankie Baby, but, like, Frankie, babyyyyyy!" He reeked of cologne, and then I did, too.

Later, I called 911 to report that an agitated transient was refusing to get out of the intersection in front of the shop, and I was afraid he was a danger at least to himself and maybe others. A coworker went over to the people who were gathered on the corner and approaching him to try to get him out. I focused in on the ranting man as I answered the dispatcher's questions to put together a description - white, 50s, tan coat, dark pants, beige knit cap, wild red beard. No visible weapons, a small dog, no physical interaction with him. I watched as he reeled closer to the other side of the street, and lost sight of the others who'd gone to talk to him. As I hung up the cordless phone, my coworker came loping back and said, "Call the cops!"
"I just did," I said. "I said the guy wouldn't get out of the street."
"No! That guy with no shirt. He just threatened me with a machete!" While I was watching the first guy, one of the other people who had gone into the street to tell him to get out of there had turned out to be even more aggressive than the first. My coworker followed him to tell him to leave the first guy alone. "I was worried he was going to hurt the dog," he said after. The man walked away angry, tied his shirt around his waist, and pulled something out of the bushes in front of the hotel across the street. My coworker said he waved the long knife in the air at him and made a slashing gesture across his own throat. He went to the workbench and to find an impromptu weapon to stash under the front desk. Cops pulled up from two directions a minute later. We each approached one of them and pointed at the same guy - just as he disappeared around the corner into the crowd. The police took off after him, with lights on but no sirens. Our other coworker came back from lunch a minute later. The original ranter had wandered off by now. Aside from the steel mallet under the register, it looked like nothing had happened at all.