Notes from a Weird Day- Parts I and II
Aug. 26th, 2015 09:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogMore will follow from this actual workday, but these stories developed before I even got into the office this morning.
It was an early rise; I was out the door before 7 and on the way to an 8:30 Rochester appointment when I passed an ordinary looking Jeep on the 90. Ordinary, that is, except for two things. One, the stick figures on the back window:
That's not all that unusual. What was unusual, though, was that the driver was plainly baking while tooling along at something around 65. It's been many years, but I know a bong when I see one, and I practically felt a contact high coming on just from going past him. The air inside the Jeep was thick, and dude looked pretty damn happy for that hour.
I did consider alternative theories. Could these newfangled Vape places be dispensing their liquid nicotine in traditional ganja delivery units? Fortunately, my office there represents several of those places- and I was informed that, um, no- I saw what I saw.
Dude.
----
Then I saw more weirdness.
After leaving the early outside appointment, I headed for the Rochester office, but took a slightly more scenic route than usual. I wound up grabbing my local alt-weekly paper outside the strangest of stores. It's about a half mile down Park Avenue from where I lived when I first moved there in 1984, and not once, in all those years, have I EVER seen the place actually open. Even weirder, in that time it's gone through at least four different incarnations: originally a Red-and-White corner grocery store; then, for many years, an odd shop named FRED-&-ROGERS that always made me think of the Kingdom of Make-Believe; and more recently, a run of hoity-toity used furniture places. Until recently, it was known as Metro Retro, but now, it's at least being honest about the whole antique business:
That baby buggy is especially a trip- one of Eleanor's onetime BFFs gave us practically the same model that her own daughter had been prammed around in when we announced Emily would be coming along- and they lived maybe a mile down Park from where this picture was taken. That carriage is long gone, as is our onetime friend's residence (and the friendship, for that matter)- but it was just weird seeing it in there.
Yet the weirdest part of the short journey was still to come. As I was setting up that shot, I heard thuds across the street. I then saw a large green sofa working its way toward Culver Road, being half-carried, half-dragged by two 20ish guys (white, if you care) and a 30-something woman (A-A, also if you do). After snapping the picture, the sofa had stopped and the guys were gone. I asked the woman how far it had to go and if she needed help that I could give her, in a suit, with not even a real trunk to stick it in. No, she said- the guys were painting a house near her and had a few free minutes; they, or some other neighbors, would finish the job later. She was just amazed that something in such good condition would have just been kicked to the curb- probably by college students either moving in or moving out this time of year. She runs a home that includes foster-to-some-extent kids, and she said it would be perfect for their playroom.
She wished me a blessed day as I went on my way. Not quite as good a high as the guy I saw two hours before, but it helped make an otherwise potentially sucky day a lot less sucky:)
It was an early rise; I was out the door before 7 and on the way to an 8:30 Rochester appointment when I passed an ordinary looking Jeep on the 90. Ordinary, that is, except for two things. One, the stick figures on the back window:
That's not all that unusual. What was unusual, though, was that the driver was plainly baking while tooling along at something around 65. It's been many years, but I know a bong when I see one, and I practically felt a contact high coming on just from going past him. The air inside the Jeep was thick, and dude looked pretty damn happy for that hour.
I did consider alternative theories. Could these newfangled Vape places be dispensing their liquid nicotine in traditional ganja delivery units? Fortunately, my office there represents several of those places- and I was informed that, um, no- I saw what I saw.
Dude.
----
Then I saw more weirdness.
After leaving the early outside appointment, I headed for the Rochester office, but took a slightly more scenic route than usual. I wound up grabbing my local alt-weekly paper outside the strangest of stores. It's about a half mile down Park Avenue from where I lived when I first moved there in 1984, and not once, in all those years, have I EVER seen the place actually open. Even weirder, in that time it's gone through at least four different incarnations: originally a Red-and-White corner grocery store; then, for many years, an odd shop named FRED-&-ROGERS that always made me think of the Kingdom of Make-Believe; and more recently, a run of hoity-toity used furniture places. Until recently, it was known as Metro Retro, but now, it's at least being honest about the whole antique business:
That baby buggy is especially a trip- one of Eleanor's onetime BFFs gave us practically the same model that her own daughter had been prammed around in when we announced Emily would be coming along- and they lived maybe a mile down Park from where this picture was taken. That carriage is long gone, as is our onetime friend's residence (and the friendship, for that matter)- but it was just weird seeing it in there.
Yet the weirdest part of the short journey was still to come. As I was setting up that shot, I heard thuds across the street. I then saw a large green sofa working its way toward Culver Road, being half-carried, half-dragged by two 20ish guys (white, if you care) and a 30-something woman (A-A, also if you do). After snapping the picture, the sofa had stopped and the guys were gone. I asked the woman how far it had to go and if she needed help that I could give her, in a suit, with not even a real trunk to stick it in. No, she said- the guys were painting a house near her and had a few free minutes; they, or some other neighbors, would finish the job later. She was just amazed that something in such good condition would have just been kicked to the curb- probably by college students either moving in or moving out this time of year. She runs a home that includes foster-to-some-extent kids, and she said it would be perfect for their playroom.
She wished me a blessed day as I went on my way. Not quite as good a high as the guy I saw two hours before, but it helped make an otherwise potentially sucky day a lot less sucky:)