A Good Friday
I had off from work today, so as I was walking to run some errands this morning, in front of me approached (pardon the passive voice) what would be considered by some less than politically correct people a wigger.
Now, this photo doesn't actually do my guy justice -- first of all it's still winter in Boston so he wasn't wearing a basketball jersey. Well maybe he was, probably a newly purchased Garnett one, but that was covered by his oversized grey hooded sweatshirt, the staple of every 12-15 year-old in the Somerville-Medford-Malden triangle.
He was also very fat, like a cross between Fat Joe and Kevin James. He was wearing a black baseball cap, but as I recall the moment in my mind I can't remember exactly what adorned it -- in retrospect it was probably the omnipresent Boston "B" surrounded by white stars. That has been popular lately.
At any rate, as this future night manager at Star Market and I approached each other, me on my way to mail some letters and drop off dry cleaning, he on his way to I'm assuming the Meadow Glen mall, a nice wind rolled up Holland Street. It was a cold wind, and a cold day, but it was nice nonetheless.
So my pedestrian acquaintance and I passed each other, and just as he walked past my right shoulder, he said, "Anus."
It took a few seconds for that to sink in. Was he talking to me? Was there someone behind me? Was there someone behind the fence next to that statue of the Virgin Mary? Did he say anus?
After we were about six feet apart, I turned my head in his direction, and he did the same at the same moment. I then looked forward, and continued my walk.
I had been called an anus.
Happy Easter.
Now, this photo doesn't actually do my guy justice -- first of all it's still winter in Boston so he wasn't wearing a basketball jersey. Well maybe he was, probably a newly purchased Garnett one, but that was covered by his oversized grey hooded sweatshirt, the staple of every 12-15 year-old in the Somerville-Medford-Malden triangle.
He was also very fat, like a cross between Fat Joe and Kevin James. He was wearing a black baseball cap, but as I recall the moment in my mind I can't remember exactly what adorned it -- in retrospect it was probably the omnipresent Boston "B" surrounded by white stars. That has been popular lately.
At any rate, as this future night manager at Star Market and I approached each other, me on my way to mail some letters and drop off dry cleaning, he on his way to I'm assuming the Meadow Glen mall, a nice wind rolled up Holland Street. It was a cold wind, and a cold day, but it was nice nonetheless.
So my pedestrian acquaintance and I passed each other, and just as he walked past my right shoulder, he said, "Anus."
It took a few seconds for that to sink in. Was he talking to me? Was there someone behind me? Was there someone behind the fence next to that statue of the Virgin Mary? Did he say anus?
After we were about six feet apart, I turned my head in his direction, and he did the same at the same moment. I then looked forward, and continued my walk.
I had been called an anus.
Happy Easter.
posted by quint at 1:25 PM
3 Comments:
You know that you probably pulled the same stunt when you were 15. Can't wait for the big trip this weekend...
-Roma
First of all, Don't lump Malden in with Somerville and Medford. We are different.
Second of all, in the young gentleman's defense, you are an anus.
Why didn't you call him a colon?
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