Fan my dango

Such a ca-ray-zee day. The department re-org was announced, leaving lots of people unhappy. Luckily, I’m not one of them — my new director sent a welcome email to Katie and me, which was just swell. Can’t imagine my current bossola doing that.

I’m feeling that weird internal tension that tends to occur right around quitting time — I want to go home, and today I even can go home, since my old boss and her boss have left — but I know I should clean up the house when I get there. And all I really want to do is rent a DVD and have some wine and vedge.

Since it’s raining like blazes and I cockily left my brolly at home this morning, I think I’ll recount the interesting eavesdropping I did over the weekend in DC. D. and I were waiting for the Metro, which was running on like a 20-minute delay. A guy was sitting on the back-to-back bench behind me, and a woman in very tight jeans and very pointy and spiky boots sat down next to me. He asked her how long the delay was (even though they’d just announced it and we were sitting by the sign that flashed, “Next train, 27 minutes”), and my first instinct was, “Don’t talk to him! He’s probably some religious freak or will try to sell you on eating algae supplements at best, and at worst he’ll mack all over you and stalk you or something.”

She answered back all cool as can be. At first I thought she might’ve known him, but then she asked his name. “I’m William,” he said. “My name is Precious,” she replied. They chatted amiably about their Memorial Day plans (she was just heading home to cook up something on the grill), then she started telling him about her travels. “I really want to go to Reno. Reno, that’s in Nevada? I went to Vegas once and won $128 playing the slots. This psychic told me that you can know which slot machine is about to pay out by feeling the side. If it’s hot, it’s been played a long time, which means it’s probably going to pay out soon.” She then revealed that she’s lost $400 on that trip, so her $128 jackpot wasn’t that impressive.”

She then revealed that she was a dancer, her name used to be Champagne but now it’s Precious, then started telling him about some friend of hers she’d met in a strip club. Unfortunately, some noisy kids on bikes started horsing around and I couldn’t catch much else. While Precious was on the pay phone, William smacked one of the Walkman-wearing kids on the arm with his hat a couple of times to ask if those were “trick bikes,” which I thought was a bit rude.

OK, I’m going home.


  1. From PineTreeGirl on 05/29/03

    sometimes I can’t help myself when it comes to listening to others conversations. Restaurents are a good one for that for me. I find myself listening without meaning to. Lately though rarely do I find myself in those situations. Guess I need to go out to eat more.

Comments are closed.