Small Town Life
I was born in a small town...my parents live in that same small town... I was taught to fear Jesus in the small town...
Got back from Washington-Maryland-Virginia where I spent two days on planes, trains, and automobiles to visit jobs in the area. (I wasn't the Steve Martin character - so that would make me, uh, John Candy?)
I couldn't have been happier when the plane hit the ground in Buffalo so I could just settle into my car and race 20 miles to home without much fear of gridlocked traffic and 70,000 people in a two block radius.
Let me tell you about my trip - I spilled coffee on a guy in a suit on the subway. As I was helping him towel off, I looked at my co-worker who had witnessed the whole thing. I was doing the "I'm so sorry, please forgive me speech," when I caught my buddy's eye. We both started laughing - the victim shrugged away, huffing down the line at my utter amusement. Oh yeah, you're not supposed to drink coffee on the train.
There were people coming at me from every angle - I crumpled up my train ticket and held up the line every time I was supposed to put it in the gate. A pretty woman smiled at me and I thought it was because she saw the mustard stain on my shirt from lunch.
We passed the Washington Monument and I asked what it was.
"You're kidding, right?" my coworker asked. "Not much of a history buff," I said. Passed the Pentagon - he had to point it out. "Looks like a jail," I answered.
Standing on Pennsylvania Avenue I asked - "Doesn't what's his face live around here?"
"Right up the street," my confused buddy said.
Diversification, I thought as I saw an Indian woman standing next to a Japanese man, behind a black man on the train.
Boring I thought as I watched daily commuters read books, newspapers, do work on their laptops, drink beer, and chat like longtime friends.
Sat next to a woman on the train - started talking crabcakes, Buffalo snow, and humid Baltimore weather. We discussed her town of Pasadena and I mentioned my cousins - the Switala's -
"Oh my Gawd," she wailed. "I went to high school with John Switala - he is hysterical!"
That's my cousin.
"What a small world," she commented.
I couldn't wait for it to get a little smaller. Touching the ground in Buffalo was a welcome event.
Got back from Washington-Maryland-Virginia where I spent two days on planes, trains, and automobiles to visit jobs in the area. (I wasn't the Steve Martin character - so that would make me, uh, John Candy?)
I couldn't have been happier when the plane hit the ground in Buffalo so I could just settle into my car and race 20 miles to home without much fear of gridlocked traffic and 70,000 people in a two block radius.
Let me tell you about my trip - I spilled coffee on a guy in a suit on the subway. As I was helping him towel off, I looked at my co-worker who had witnessed the whole thing. I was doing the "I'm so sorry, please forgive me speech," when I caught my buddy's eye. We both started laughing - the victim shrugged away, huffing down the line at my utter amusement. Oh yeah, you're not supposed to drink coffee on the train.
There were people coming at me from every angle - I crumpled up my train ticket and held up the line every time I was supposed to put it in the gate. A pretty woman smiled at me and I thought it was because she saw the mustard stain on my shirt from lunch.
We passed the Washington Monument and I asked what it was.
"You're kidding, right?" my coworker asked. "Not much of a history buff," I said. Passed the Pentagon - he had to point it out. "Looks like a jail," I answered.
Standing on Pennsylvania Avenue I asked - "Doesn't what's his face live around here?"
"Right up the street," my confused buddy said.
Diversification, I thought as I saw an Indian woman standing next to a Japanese man, behind a black man on the train.
Boring I thought as I watched daily commuters read books, newspapers, do work on their laptops, drink beer, and chat like longtime friends.
Sat next to a woman on the train - started talking crabcakes, Buffalo snow, and humid Baltimore weather. We discussed her town of Pasadena and I mentioned my cousins - the Switala's -
"Oh my Gawd," she wailed. "I went to high school with John Switala - he is hysterical!"
That's my cousin.
"What a small world," she commented.
I couldn't wait for it to get a little smaller. Touching the ground in Buffalo was a welcome event.
Comments