This morning on the way to work I saw a guy finish his breakfast, ball up the paper bag it came in, roll down his window and toss it on the ground. He immediately caught my eye and started chiding me (with his motions) for powdering my mess of broken capillaries that passes for a face.
I started yelling at him about his trash. I rolled down my window (passenger side – he was to my right) to make sure he knew what I meant. He had hypocrite all over his face. I could see that he routinely chides his wife/lover/significant other/spouse/ward/charge/his own mother/(your name here) for stuff that he does all the time.
He knew I was angry and he was waiting to see my white middle finger once the light turned green. He glanced over, hoping for vitriol.
He got Gandhi. I pressed my palms together in such a way as to say, “I’m praying for you buddy.” Not in that wimpy Christians-we-look-down way, in the Gandhi way. I might as well have had a white diaper on.
Ape that he was, he had to do the same to me. Never was a man with a mustache so unappealing.
Or to be more precise, O Santa Ynez Valley!
I have a new job working for a large bureaucracy, but I can’t tell you more than that because I signed something or other swearing me to secrecy. I haven’t worked in many large institutions, and my head is spinning with wonder. If you take the one bureaucracy I’m in and multiply it by the number of bureaucracies worldwide…well, don’t do it. Your head will explode.
The Scout is carrying on without me—most recently in the Santa Ynez Valley. One of my favorite places evah.
When The Scout called me from The Hitching Post, I groaned out loud.
He had a pork chop, but I have a paycheck.
If the genus is Walt Disney World, then the species is The Magic Kingdom. The Scout worked there the week between Christmas Day and New Year’s Day, the time of year when the park swells from its typical 35,000 visitors a day to 70,000.
Needless to say, it was hard to avoid people.
If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.
About the third day into the job, I was talking to The Scout and he said in a tired voice, “Well, I have to go back to the Magic Kingdom…”
I began to fixate on that word couplet: “magic kingdom.” Just what is a magic kingdom?
The sheep-like ability of people to herd themselves into The Magic Kingdom at the busiest time of year at $82.00 each (one-day ticket) amazes me. It’s not that I detest Disney, it’s that I don’t understand going when it is so busy. Here in SoCal, many of us have learned to go places at ‘off’ times. Were I to go to Disneyland here, I’d go on a Tuesday in October.
My favorite thing at Disneyland is the first few seconds of the Peter Pan ride where you fly out of the window of the house and swoop over London on the way to Neverland. Since I’d prefer to swoop over the real London, I’m saving my magic pennies for that.