Oh, Uh Huh
The office park shuttle that takes me home* every day varies in size. Sometimes the driver uses this piddly little shuttle that caries only about 5/8 of the number of people who want to use it. There never used to be a shortage of shuttle seats, but then, gas wasn't on its way to being $4 a gallon, either.
Lately, thankfully, the shuttle driver has taken to driving larger-sized vehicles that tend to accommodate everyone.
Last week, as I was getting on the shuttle getting ready to head home for the weekend, I was doing my best to be a Good Commuter. I got on the shuttle quickly, I scootched into the back as nimbly as possible, given my size and ass and approximate three cubic feet of baggage. (By which I mean actual, tangible baggage and not emotional crap. Because three cubic feet? That would barely be big enough to function as my emotional baggage's ID tag.)
Anyway, so I'm working on my scootch and thinking I'm being a good commuter when WHAM! I bang my forehead into the mini-tv bolted to the roof of the shuttle. Hard, too. My head literally ricocheted off the damn thing. No one laughed or anything, but I had clearly come close to knocking myself unconscious and I did NOT feel ashamed in putting my hand on my forming bruise and saying, "OW!" aloud.
Then last night on the shuttle I noticed a VERY HELPFUL CLUE. One that perhaps should have been slapped on the monitors on the shuttle we used LAST WEEK so as to help poor people such as myself -- the ones who have some issues with breezy elegance -- AVOID FOREHEAD RICOCHETING.
Where were you LAST WEEK, oh helpful sticker?
*Though not directly. It actually just takes me to BART. Which takes me to the bus. Which THEN takes me home.
Lately, thankfully, the shuttle driver has taken to driving larger-sized vehicles that tend to accommodate everyone.
Last week, as I was getting on the shuttle getting ready to head home for the weekend, I was doing my best to be a Good Commuter. I got on the shuttle quickly, I scootched into the back as nimbly as possible, given my size and ass and approximate three cubic feet of baggage. (By which I mean actual, tangible baggage and not emotional crap. Because three cubic feet? That would barely be big enough to function as my emotional baggage's ID tag.)
Anyway, so I'm working on my scootch and thinking I'm being a good commuter when WHAM! I bang my forehead into the mini-tv bolted to the roof of the shuttle. Hard, too. My head literally ricocheted off the damn thing. No one laughed or anything, but I had clearly come close to knocking myself unconscious and I did NOT feel ashamed in putting my hand on my forming bruise and saying, "OW!" aloud.
Then last night on the shuttle I noticed a VERY HELPFUL CLUE. One that perhaps should have been slapped on the monitors on the shuttle we used LAST WEEK so as to help poor people such as myself -- the ones who have some issues with breezy elegance -- AVOID FOREHEAD RICOCHETING.
Where were you LAST WEEK, oh helpful sticker?
*Though not directly. It actually just takes me to BART. Which takes me to the bus. Which THEN takes me home.
Perhaps your bout of Breezy Elegance prompted the shuttle driver to add the sticker.
ReplyDeleteApparently you made quite an "impact" on them!
Perhaps the shuttle driver was none too happy when s/he saw the bloody hair clump. Perhaps it's a veiled message that silently says, "AND THIS MEANS YOU, MISSY."
ReplyDeletePersonally, I don't think that sticker is quite sufficient.
ReplyDeleteA) If you can see the sticker, you can see the big black box. It should be bright yellow. Or Fuscia. Or a lovely mauve. Perhaps with a paisley pattern? THAT will get it noticed.
B) It's an incomplete statement... watch your head... watch it do what? Does it mean you can watch yourself on the screen?
C) Just how small is this shuttle? If you're able to hit your head on this thing, I'd have to get down on all fours and crawl under it to prevent a concussion.
Don't feel bad, K... I routinely smack myself in the head on the hatchback of my car. One of these days you're going to read about me knocking myself out and the car rolling backwards over me.
OW indeed! Much like the protruding arm of the display rack I oh so brezzily inserted into my right eye this morning when I stopped at the grocery store to pick up goodies for my meeting this afternoon. I swear it was not there when I walked up to the rack and bent over to grab the bagels. Maybe next week there will be a sign that says "DO NOT PLACE EYE HERE!"
ReplyDeleteoh this made me laugh. i bump my head on things all the fucking time. there's one cabinet door in my kitchen that is seriously out to get me. (which is ridiculous -- it's not like i'm going to take over the kitchen, i barely even go in there. i'm no threat. the cabinet can HAVE the kitchen, just leave my head alone.)
ReplyDeleteanyway you'd think this wouldn't happen to someone so short... how does my head even reach things to bump into??
Ummm, it appears to be on the side of the head bashing cage. That's handy. I love warning labels. They are only there to remind you of something you have already done. I mean, just in case you forgot from the contusion on your brain. sigh. ;)
ReplyDeleteA couple of weeks ago, my boss slammed the back of his head into the bottom of the counter while standing up. Then he blamed someone for the floor being wet (which it wasn't). I laughed hysterically, cause come on, who doesn't like seeing their boss make an ass out of himself? The NEXT DAY I stood up in my kitchen and slammed my head into the corner of an open cabinet. I literally saw stars and had to sit down. Karma, man it's a bitch.
ReplyDeleteHi K!
ReplyDeleteYou don't have to post this one, I just knew you would see this faster than an email.
There is a cute picture of you and me up on Heather Graham's website, FYI.
:)
http://the-occidental-tourist.blogspot.com/
Hope you are having a good week!