A small man hunches over a red Honda scooter and speeds up to a shop on the town square. He jumps off, grabs a few white “to go” cartons off the back, carries them inside, and is quickly gone again.
No one pays much attention to “Boots” Smith, but everyone knows he’s there.
A local ambulance driver Dale Hurt, says, “Boots is an institution,” in Edmonton.
Boots works for Jim’s Grill, delivering “Shirleyburgers” and “Curley-Q fries” all over town. Callers never have to give him the address; all he needs is their order and name.
He’s gone so quickly that no one can keep track of him. Between deliveries, he works in the pool room, racking up balls faster than anyone, and collecting money for the games.
He doesn’t talk much. A long time ago, he said, “folks just started calling” him Boots, and it stayed with him.
“When you get a nickname, it just sort of sticks with you.”
