So, Adoring Public, as I said in “Put Another Dime…” I’m working at Park Square again. For money even (not like working for sweepings at the oreo plant)
Which, for me, means lots of time on the 21A Bus.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I eat salsa, I like ethnic crap, Matty’s a citizen of the world. I understand that the French like to smell bad and Germans like to be naked and accept their cultural heritagees. But here’s the thing, if Matty’s craving adventure, he seeks it. It does not seek him. Especially on his morning commute.
So I had this idea as I was sitting behind the guy who smelled like urinal cakes and fending off the woman who wanted to lay on hands and pray for the healing of my sweaty feet. I thought what if I had some sort of cocoon? Like a pup tent that I walk around in. A pod, if you will. Just for me, or, in the first person singular, “I”
I can’t believe no one’s thought of this yet.
Until next time, I remain,
On the bleeding edge.