Give Me Back My Jacket!

I heard this angry exchange between two women as I got on the T:

First Woman: I work hard for a living!  I work (expletive) hard to make money!  Don’t you get that?

Second Woman: Look, all I’m saying is: I don’t know anybody named John.

I can’t imagine how these two could possibly have been having the same argument. It reminds me of a Louis C K routine about arguing:

I decided that I’m gonna argue with this guy, but I’m gonna argue about something else. I’m not having his argument; I’m having mine. So, he’s like, “Go!” And I go, “Well give me back my jacket!” And he stopped. I was like, “Yeah, you got my jacket! Give it back! I said you could borrow it, not have it!”

(And now, as a result of this post, Google has “comedian stole my jacket” in my permanent search history.)

Practical Applications of a Dictionary

Overheard at Star Market yesterday:

Customer:  Do you have a paper cutter?

High School Student Clerk: (annoyed) What, like, scissors?

Although I’m disappointed in an education system that’s left a high school student unaware of what a “paper cutter” is, I should perhaps be giving her the benefit of the doubt.  Random House defines it as:

n. any device for cutting or trimming paper…

(She gave the guy some scissors, which he reluctantly accepted.)

It’s Called “Freak You Out” Disease

I had my teeth cleaned this morning.  I learned that my teeth are still in excellent health, but on my way out I overheard another patient getting this news:

I’d like to send a photograph of this to use in our classes, ’cause what I’m seeing here is… well, come over here and take a look.

Any condition that’s so unusual they need to show all their students while they have the chance can’t be a lot of fun.

Phoenix: City of a Thousand Stories

A collection of events from the airports I traveled to get to and from Phoenix, Arizona (namely Houston and Minneapolis/St. Paul):

All in Good Fun

The security reminder announcement (“…threat condition orange…”) in Houston includes this memorable line:

You are also reminded that any inappropriate remarks or jokes concerning security may result in your arrest.

This did not stop the gate agents for my flight from joking with one passenger, “Wait, this boarding pass is ripped.  Susan, what does that mean?  Don’t we have to put her on the next flight?”  I chuckled a little, but the passenger herself wasn’t amused, having already been delayed and rerouted twice that day.  Oops.

No; Are You a Security Threat?

Walking through Terminal E in Houston, I saw a woman flag down a uniformed airline employee.  This exchange followed:

Her: Excuse me, are you security?
Him:  No.
Her: Oh.

She walked on.  Just in case she knew something I didn’t, I walked the other way.

Sterility is a Relative Term

On the inside of a Jetway door in Minneapolis/St. Paul (i.e., the door facing into the airport), was a sign that read:

Now entering the sterile area

The “sterile area” is, of course, the part of the airport where everyone has already been screened.  If airport security works correctly, no weapons of any kind will ever be found in the sterile area.  Nor will too much toothpaste.

This begs an obvious question: shouldn’t the tarmac, where the planes are, also be part of the sterile area?

Am I Putting Him On or is He Putting Me On?

I overheard this snippet of a phone call while strolling through Terminal E in Houston:

In the upper right corner there’s a box that says “Search Mail.”  …  Right, it says “Search Mail.”  …  Yeah … Yeah … Okay, so do you see the box that says “Search Mail?”  … Right, it’s in the upper right corner … It doesn’t matter; just click Inbox.  Whatever.  Now in the upper right corner do you see the box that says “Search Mail?” … Okay, good.  Now type “Continental” … In the box that says “Search Mail” … It’s in the upper right corner.

The airport offers wireless Internet access for $8 a day.  After a few more minutes of that, that sounds like a bargain.

Airport Manners in the Twenty-First Century

The woman across the aisle from me on my flight into Boston caught our flight attendant’s attention.

The gentleman in seat 20F switched seats with me, and I’d like to buy him a drink.

I was first struck by how nice a gesture that was, and then immediately struck by how low our standards for manners have gotten, at least aboard aircraft, if a $5 drink as repayment for a kind act is as noteworthy as I interpreted it.  (To be clear, I find no fault whatsoever with the woman herself or her offer, which was indeed a nice gesture.  My concern is for the rest of society who have rendered it more impressive than it ought to have been.)

Tights and Underwear

On my way into the Wang Theatre to see Boston Ballet’s Sleeping Beauty (in which Melissa Hough was particularly outstanding as Princess Aurora) I passed two small children, both about five years old.

This is the conversation I overheard:

Girl: “I don’t mind ballet, but I’m more into gymnastics.”
Boy: “I like ballet.”
Girl: “It’s girls in tights dancing. Of course you like it.”

This reminds me of the argument one of my female high school classmates gave an incoming class of freshmen for why they should join the theatre program: “You get to see us in our underwear during costume changes.”

They’ve both got a point, really. Why don’t more boys join performing arts programs if only for the gawking opportunities?

How to Lose a Guy in 10 Words

Three attractive college women stand on a street corner waiting for a bus.  Their male peers pass by on the sidewalk, often gawking unabashedly at the women with whom they must know, on some level, they will never really get to hook up.  The women clearly want this reaction, though, as they are dressed in outfits tailored exclusively for use in nightclubs, with cigarettes hanging coolly from three right hands and tiny, showy purses tucked under three left arms.

As I pass, I overhear this snippet of conversation:

Girl #1: I didn’t throw up everywhere. I threw up once in the bathroom.

Girl #2: Well I threw up all night, and then kept going in the morning.

To think: college guys were walking right past them without even attempting to get their phone numbers!

All I can envision is the scene in Big Bang Theory where the nerdy physicists attend a Halloween party and Sheldon analyzes the other guests’ conversations, “like Jane Goodall observing the apes.”

Sheldon: It seems that the newcomer approaches the existing group with the greeting, “How wasted am I?” which is met with an approving chorus of, “Dude!”

Leonard: Then what happens?

Sheldon: That’s as far as I’ve gotten.

Me too, my fictional friend.  Me too.