I tend to run late at night. As in, like, midnight. Usually, at midnight, not a soul is stirring in my neighborhood.
Imagine my surprise when I heard someone scream “MAVERICCKKK!” as I ran by. Immediately stopped running and flinched all in the same awkward motion. Had I been mistaken for former presidential candidate John McCain? Had some forgotten friend recognized me and called out to me using a forgotten nickname?
No, it was just a guy calling to his dog. He and I made awkward eye contact for a second, then I began running again.
Stay Mavericky, folks.