I'm standing in the Orange County airport this afternoon waiting for my flight home when I hear over the PA system, "Will the passenger who left their hearing aid batteries please return to the security checkpoint."
Wonder how that turned out.
Tell us a little something about your first car. Do you have any photos you can share?
Submitted by tamara.
Oh man, I wish I had a picture. It was a green 1974 Ford Pinto. It's apparent to me now that my parent's were trying to get rid of me.
I was at a going away party for a co-worker last night. It went fairly late and by the time I got my somewhat inebriated self to a BART station, it was midnight. I have never taken BART after midnight. I had visions of empty cars with just me and Angie Dickinson inside. But no, there were other people besides Angie.
I sat across from a rasta dude with a guitar case. As soon as the train got moving, rasta guy opened his case and pulled out his guitar. I winced, knowing that I had about 25 minutes on this train and I really didn't want this guy playing the guitar and asking for money that whole time.
But he didn't want money. He just quietly played the guitar, as if only for himself. I was sitting 8 feet away from him and could barely hear him. He was in his own little rasta world. So, he played, through the MacArthur station, he played. On past 19th street, he played. 12th street still playing. West Oakland? Yup, still strumming softly in his own little world. Under the bay we go and rasta dude continues to slip deeper into his own subconscious. If he wasn't playing, I would swear he was peacefully sleeping.
After 25 minutes being on the train together but not even acknowledging each other's existence, we pull into Embarcadero, he puts his guitar away, looks at me and says "It's hot in here." And walks off the train.
Rasta dude, I want to be you.
