Tonight Sarah cooked up a Mexican feast and warm brownies with homemade whipped cream and we watched Grey's Anatomy. Afterwards, I caught a cab (due to lethargy) and in the back seat, lo and behold, was a deaf transvestite prostitute. There was a traditional-looking Indian woman in the passenger seat who told me "the man is deaf" (meaning the prostitute). So, naturally, I thought this was the transvestite's interpreter. But, it turns out she was the cab driver's wife. For some reason, I get along with cab drivers. And, during the ride, we debriefed on the tranny.
Earlier today, I spotted what seemed to be a homeless man in the alumni house. It weirded me out, so I consulted with the secretary who gave me a historical summary. Apparently this strange man occasionally comes into the house stating he is an alumnus, which is verified by the alumni directory with a Boston address (though he refuses to show photo ID). He does, however, present checks for hundreds of dollars that don't bounce. He is a strange man who mumbles, rather than talks, and who almost had a physical altercation with my friend, the employee who left. Today, he came by, sat in the waiting room without acknowledging the secretary, read an entire newspaper, and left.
These oddball experiences totally remind me of my former life in SF. However, when they happen here, they throw me off a bit more... Khaki used to weird me out when I was in SF, but now I wear it.
1 comment:
I practically cry when I encounter something that reminds me of my old life in Syracuse. Not that I particularly loved that place, but I'm finding that I now miss that time in my life. Of course, I romanticize all of the struggle and hell that I went through while there. But of course!
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