Leaving my parents’ house the other day, I had to stop at a red light less than a block away. Groaning, I looked over at the car next to mine. A gorgeous twenty-something man looked back at me. I didn’t even attempt not to start. He was beautiful. A picture in a magazine come to life. He stared back for several moments, unflinching. Did he find me attractive too? Was this a moment of fate? Does he just know how gorgeous he is and enjoys the attention? Still gazing at me, he lifts the bong from his lap and inhales deeply. After a moment of startled confusion, I died laughing. I’d heard of voyeuristic exhibition. However, hadn’t ever thought of it in terms of drug usage. Clearly, this man was enjoying being watched while he [insert your own drug usage verb here, I’d use the wrong one, I’m sure] and drove. Happily, I no longer felt hideous and disgusting by comparison. I felt damned superior, truth be told. After all, he might be prettier than I can ever be, but, at least I know how to do voyeuristic exhibition correctly! Or something like that…
As I waited at the second to last stop light before work, listening to my Thomas Michael Ford novel, Jane Bites Back (Jane Austin as a vampire—truly funny and entertaining), I wished I could drive back home and back again, I wasn’t ready to go to work, or quit listening to Jane trying to get published in her after-life. I glanced at the car next to me as the light turned green and we moved like cattle through the light. The man had a crossword puzzle spread out over his steering wheel, left hand holding the paper firmly against the handle as he maneuvered his car to the left while his right hand jotted in letters. I’ve always thought crossword puzzles were akin to golf (as in shoot-me-in-the-head boring), but maybe doing them at sixty miles an hour would be more exciting.
If you happen to see me driving around town inhaling deeply, misspelling words, sans pants, please be polite and wave.
Black Coffee Tables
2 years ago