You can spot her at dawn — a rumpled remnant of a woman making the long, teetering trek down Michigan or Meridian or Collins. She sports raccoon eyes, lacks an earring, and walks in stilettos as if they were six-foot stilts. She emits an unidentifiable stench. Maybe it's Doritos, cigarettes, stale perfume, or Astroglide. In any case, if you look closely, it's killing nearby plants. Not long ago, a toddler who brushed against her hand was airlifted to... More >>>