Hi- it's Zymurgian. After having been way outta town for a week, I is so damn glad me live in a quirky isolated mountain town, among damn cool folks and evenings and pine trees and such. Still America, still insane, but much of this nation is (too humid) really really insane. One may most perspicaciously glean this in airports, methinks. Especially airports. The code was orange. I guess that means we should all be more scared than we usually are, but not neccesarily terrified. I was standing in a security checkpoint line that stretched from the flight gates to Aldeberaan. The only person about who was not glued to a cellphone, blackberry, i-pod, or corporate fast food or their own self importance, was a little girl about five or so. She had no qualms whatsoever about engaging me in conversation, which i found delightful. We talked about pirates and Harry Potter.
"We all have to wait in line to take off our shoes because of nine eleven," She explains to me.
"Yep."
When the indomitably cute child exclaims "I Hate Nine Eleven!" - the line is long and patience is a long way off for her, folks in line shift their weight... cross their arms, stare out the windows at the depressed, paranoid, apathetic, ocher haze of the Nation.
No comments:
Post a Comment