I work Saturday mornings at church to prep breakfast for the following morning. I take Colfax Ave. into town. There are quicker ways to get to work, but Saturday morning traffic is light and it's a more interesting drive.
A couple of weeks ago I was making my drive in when something caught my eye. A man stood alone at a bus stop. Facing oncoming traffic, he wore glasses with metal frames and large lenses, blue jeans and a blue t-shirt over a large, round gut. He also wore a cape. That's what caught my eye.
As I looked in my rearview mirror after passing him, I saw a red letter "S" emblazoned on a yellow rhombus set against the red field of his cape. Superman.
I had some shopping to do that morning at Restaurant Depot, about half-way between home and church. I jumped back on Colfax when I finished. Stopping at a light downtown, I absentmindedly watched pedestrians cross the street. And among them, crossing before me, was Superman.
"Superman takes public transit," I said out loud to myself. The light changed red to green and I shook my head in wonder as the man of steel marched toward Denver Comic Con.
Maybe it's misplaced, but I have great affinity for this man. Think of the simple courage it took to walk out the door that morning. He didn't change when he arrived at the convention. No, he strode to the bus stop and waited. He paid his fare and sat among others while dressed as the last son of Krypton. He walked through downtown Denver to spend a day—his day—as an icon of all good things humanity can aspire to be.
I hope his day was great.