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Bus Story: A Rip in the Fabric

August 14, 2010

It’s a hot evening commute, at least for this area, and we all scoot aboard the air conditioned bus and find a place to sit while we plod our way through unusually clogged downtown traffic. As I look directly ahead, in seats that face each other are two gentlemen who are so different, I shake my head just in case something went wonky in my brain from the past work week. On the left side of the aisle is Ward Cleaver – or at least a reasonable facsimile thereof. He’s square headed and square jawed, haircut right out of early Mad Men, in a very 40’s/50’s suit. He sits, ramrod straight, facing the ole 54’s version of Santino Rice (from Project Runway). He’s lanky, almost skeletal, barely filling a pair of skinny jeans, bright melon colored socks, and oxfords. He’s wearing two shirts, both multi-colored and neither one is complete. He’s accessorized with bright white Elton John worthy glasses and a pork-pie hat. As Mr. Gunn might say, “Its a lot of look.”. My brain can’t handle it. I close one eye and then the other, expecting everything on the bus to shift in space and time, depending on who I look at. Yoo-hoo! Mr. Serling? I know you’re here, so let’s get the intro underway. If this bus is going to the Twilight Zone, I’d like to get off before we get to the town inside Michael Kors’ brain.

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From → Bus Stories

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