It is a winter morning in New York City. Sidewalks are tightly stamped with greyish footprints from the previous night’s snowfall. The air is still, but figures fly by in an intricate choreography of mufflers and coats, hats and gloves. They whirl in shades of red or blue, black or orange. They are humans–city humans late for work. Office jobs, retail jobs, factory jobs. A variable soundtrack accompanies their undulating moves: honks, whistles, screams, grunts. How nimble! How determined! How practiced in the art of the commute. A typical day, then…

The sandy-haired gentleman rushing out of the corner store is having a typical day, too. But a typical day for him is, well, not so typical for even your average hardened New Yorker. Within 48 hours of this moment, he’ll almost get flattened by numerous vehicles whilst crossing an intersection, find the dead body of his boss, deal with an intrepid IRS agent accusing him of tax fraud, bumble his way through flirtatious encounters with a sexy secretary, meet with an eccentric client, encounter a “ghost”, and be arrested for and cleared of murder. Welcome to the life of Grady Fletcher, Mr. Hapless.
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