You’ve heard the expression “the roads were laid out by the cows,” often referring to the city of Boston, a blatant misapplication if you ask me, as Beantown roads were obviously sketched out by some vengeful Native Americans after a long night breaking in some new peace pipes. No, this phrase works much better as a description of my mind, which meanders like a large, oblivious bovine preoccupied with the large clump of cud in its craw. Chew on that one! (Sorry, sorry, sorry, can’t help myself.) Sometimes I wake up after one of my rambling reveries and lose my equilibrium because the fall back to reality is so violent. Other times, however, I feel like I just enjoyed a movie I’d snuck in to see. This happened to me today in beautiful downtown Worcester, MA, Boston’s ugly step sister. I was there to observe a fellow human being, the subject of some experimental corporate drug testing (OK, that’s not true; she was simply trying out a new computer system for insurance adjusters; now you know why I embellished). Well, my subject flew the coup when I was eating lunch, so I was left to observe some rather self-conscious office furniture.
After some time, the furniture became suspicious, so I abandoned my task and moved to a cubicle by the window with a view of the cityscape below, which was depressingly quiet, but for two smokers, standing randomly on the sidewalk. I thought nothing of this scene, which is repeated all day long on city streets across the country. But…then my mind left the pen. And suddenly I pictured the smokers sans cigarettes, idly standing there, empty handed, just talking to each other. And the questions were now flying in the maelstrom in my gray matter. What could they be doing? Drug deal? Pedophile rendezvous? Two lonely gamers who both thought they were meeting hotgirl16 for a good time? Whatever it was they were doing, it couldn’t possibly be legitimate. For a fleeting moment I could swear one was Huggy Bear from Starsky and Hutch, an image even my imagination can only bear for a second or two. But then the scene slowly shifted back into focus. Amazing. Just give ‘em back their cigarettes and our two mystery smokers are transformed back into regular, perhaps even cool, characters. But then the cowbell rang, calling me for a 4 o’clock teleconference and back into my pen.
After reflecting on my dream vision, I asked a trusted confidante if there was a word for the equivalent behavior of two non smokers. Came the brilliant reply: loitering. I laughed. But on another level I also chuckled to myself. The only entity guilty of loitering in this case was my mind! Time to call it home to the wet bar!!!
Believe The Captain when he says: sometimes the safest thing to do is smoke a cigarette.
Yours wondering what might have been had things gone differently on that fateful afternoon many years ago when a somewhat innocent 12 year old boy from the West Torrington ghetto took a hit on a Camel and turned green, flicking the lit fire stick into the tall dry grass, whose burning blades beckoned the Torrington FD as he hauled ass down the street,
The Captain
Which guy would you rather meet in a dark alley????
After some time, the furniture became suspicious, so I abandoned my task and moved to a cubicle by the window with a view of the cityscape below, which was depressingly quiet, but for two smokers, standing randomly on the sidewalk. I thought nothing of this scene, which is repeated all day long on city streets across the country. But…then my mind left the pen. And suddenly I pictured the smokers sans cigarettes, idly standing there, empty handed, just talking to each other. And the questions were now flying in the maelstrom in my gray matter. What could they be doing? Drug deal? Pedophile rendezvous? Two lonely gamers who both thought they were meeting hotgirl16 for a good time? Whatever it was they were doing, it couldn’t possibly be legitimate. For a fleeting moment I could swear one was Huggy Bear from Starsky and Hutch, an image even my imagination can only bear for a second or two. But then the scene slowly shifted back into focus. Amazing. Just give ‘em back their cigarettes and our two mystery smokers are transformed back into regular, perhaps even cool, characters. But then the cowbell rang, calling me for a 4 o’clock teleconference and back into my pen.
After reflecting on my dream vision, I asked a trusted confidante if there was a word for the equivalent behavior of two non smokers. Came the brilliant reply: loitering. I laughed. But on another level I also chuckled to myself. The only entity guilty of loitering in this case was my mind! Time to call it home to the wet bar!!!
Believe The Captain when he says: sometimes the safest thing to do is smoke a cigarette.
Yours wondering what might have been had things gone differently on that fateful afternoon many years ago when a somewhat innocent 12 year old boy from the West Torrington ghetto took a hit on a Camel and turned green, flicking the lit fire stick into the tall dry grass, whose burning blades beckoned the Torrington FD as he hauled ass down the street,
The Captain
Which guy would you rather meet in a dark alley????
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