One of the joys of Sunday for me is working the early-morning shift, which inevitably is slow-going. Well not today. There was actual stuff going on, which was nice, I guess. I felt useful.
Anyway, on the way to work, I was riding the TRAIN. (Come on ride the train, and ride it! Come on ride the train….) As per usual. But it was going really slow. Like 5 mph or something, it seemed. It took me an hour to get to Five Points (city center), which was absolutely Rick-diculous considering we weren’t even single-tracking. Man, oh man. It should only take 25-27 minutes on average. (Yes, I have it down to a science.)
And… I went to the mall in the evening and sat out on the patio to enjoy the nice weather, and then I went in and looked at clothing with alien motifs. Like, glittering colorful neon/gold-studded aliens that would make 50 Cent pause and sign up to go to a Star Trek convention. Yes, folks, aliens are *in* this fall fashion season.
In light of this, I thought I would write another bizarre poem:
Roswell’s just a few miles away
Roswell, Georgia, not New Mexico
So I don my alien apparel
And try not to go over a barrell
With extraterrestrial lexicon.
You probably saw me at the Dragon*Con,
Keeping one eye on the guy dressed for robotic cosplay
With a Macintosh cardboard-box codpiece on,
He put his geekish manhood on an LCD kind of display
But I was too busy listening to my old-school iPod Nano to stay.
Alas, it were that I had to board the train to nowhere in particular;
And I felt faster pumping through my heart’s ventricles
I was offered a free hug by a man covered in fake blood
And it was then that I understood
That my trips on the train were getting pretty spectacular.
Indeed, many a frustrating trip can inspire colorful vernacular
For while stuck in the train, we encounter an interesting population;
It’s a tough adjustment for those who prefer their interactions to be insular;
For you come into contact with every segment of societal persuasion.
You’ve got to factor the uniqueness of the experience into the overall equation.
57 Channels 
Hmm…although the fashions by William Ware Theiss are en vogue, I’m seeing you in all black with a beret. Those are some boss beats, daddio. *snaps fingers*
I can’t wear a beret without feeling like Monica Lewinsky…. UGH.
I feel your pain.
As well you should… I think.
Huh? I’ve never put on a beret. If I were going to, I’d wear mirrored sunglasses and go for a whole retro Special Forces look. ^_^