Stink In Pink

Well, this day took it's time in coming.

As of the end of the lecture day yesterday in mid-town Manhattan, I was officially on vacation. It was hard to feel celebratory when we had to drive 10 hours home. We got in the car stopping only twice, once for gas, once to remedy low blood sugar. We finally got home at about 1 in the morning, tired, wired and restless. An hour or so later we finally hit the hay.

I woke up only a couple of minutes ago and sat down to write the blog for the day. So forgive the late post, I try to be predictable.

The Post, Written With Bleary Eyes

On Monday after leaving the lecture site we rode the elevator down and stopped twice. The first time a woman got on, pleasingly plump in a nice pink suit. She brushed up against my chair because she was talking on the phone and not paying attention. She got very upset that she might have got wheelchair dust on her dress and spent the ride down muttering about how we should be on the freight elevator. I said nothing, I figure, she wasn't worth the effort.

Once in the lobby, you go through the gold door with Buddy, the wheelchair guy, on it. Then it's down a hallway and out onto a loading dock where manly men throw stuff around, stack stuff up, and delight each other with fine converations like 'suck my dick' and 'fuck you, you know, fuck you'. In order to get onto the ramp, one of these guys has to break away from the herd and pull open a large, heavy looking gate.

We waited for one of them to notice us, and when one did, he took a huge pull on his cigarette and called to us, 'Just a minute I'll get that for ya'. He came over and had to move a huge oxygen tank out of the way. He put his hand with the cigarette on top of the tank and then tipped it and began to roll it. Now I'm no health and safety guy but I'm guessing that's a frigging treacherous way to move oxygen. I joked, 'I hope that isn't explosive.' He said, 'Yeah, it's oxygen, I figure it blows up at least I get off early.'

Then he openned the gate and we started through, Joe said, 'Thanks.' He stopped and looked at us for a second and said, 'No, man, it's ok. It's nice to do something that matters every now and then.' Before we responded, he was hailed back to work, and he responded, 'I'm fucking coming alright, hold on to your nuts.'

We were off.

It's amazing who's gentle.

It's amazing who's not.

So, I guess, you can't hide goodness under grease and torn overalls and you can't dress shit up in a pleasingly pink suit. A lesson I keep learning.