Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Places To Be

Last night I got so hot I still don't think I've cooled off. The room was large, and stuffed with a hundred and fifty people. The corporate issued air conditioning struggled with the crowd. I was standing around waiting, sweating, breathing in the air the person standing beside me just exhaled, and making a list of all the places I'd rather be:

A windswept field.
The walk-in cooler at the Pizza Hutt in McKinney, TX.
Flipping through the racks at Magnolia Thunderpussy Records.

There was a girl in a mini skirt and a super tight top walking through the room. Really? I thought. You're going to go interview at a bank today, and that's what you pick?. The girl in question stepped up on the riser to speak with the HR representative, and in her elevated position revealed the black boy-short underwear she was wearing. I immediately looked away, not wanting to be the kind of guy who gets caught looking at the kind of girl who would wear that to an interview.

A bar. Any bar.
Standing in front of my fridge with the door open.
Getting a virtual enema from the big fountain in Easton.

You can tell the sales managers a mile away. It's the walk and the nearly visible haze of aftershave rising from their shoulders like gasoline fumes. The pronounced strut didn't entirely fade in 1979, and they use it to communicate that the room belongs to them every moment they're in it. A nervous kid with a look in his eyes that tells you this is his first interview asks where he should sit. "Anywhere you want, tough guy. Pick a chair you think you can hold down. As long as you can remember your name, we'll find you when we're ready for you."

On the porch with my wife, talking about nothing.
Breathing the overwhelming air inside a walk in humidor.
Half Price Books.

I got home and the air conditioning was off because of the nicer weather earlier in the week, but now the upstairs was a sweatbox. I flipped the switch on the thermostat and went out to sit on the porch with Jen while the house regained its sanity. She's worried because I'm worried and she's trying to get my head screwed back on straight. We chatted for a while, and I told her about the skirt and the heat, but forgot to mention the sales manager guy. I realized I was being a prick, and finally asked her about her day. We talked for a few more minutes while watching the birds at the feeders, and then she bribed me with an ice cream cone from DQ. I stopped making my list of places I'd rather be.

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