While Alex and Wolfie were in the bathroom, I watched 2 teenage boys, in oversized suits that unknowingly paid homage to David Byrne, peruse books from an airport bookstore. Sticking together like feral dogs, they picked up books, put them back, interspersed by watching a flat screen TV in the corner.
I was pretty sure I figured them out. I had seen their types before - big suits, cheap shoes, white short sleeved shirts and backpacks. The only thing missing were badges on the breast of their jackets.
I got up and stood next to them:
“Hey, you guys on your mission?” I said, in a buddy-up kinda way. I was so sure they were Mormon kids on their year mission or really bad Mods.
The kid nearest to me looked confused: “What are you talking about?” I knew I had the wrong guys, but I continued on, regardless.
“Aren’t you guys Mormons?” I said, still trying to sell my fallible observation.
“No, we’re going to our Aunt’s funeral,” they said matter-of-factly, with no tinge of indignation. I would’ve been that generous.
“Sorry about that.”
oops!
ReplyDeletei can picture those kids- your description of them is spot on- always in the white short sleeved dress shirt, with a name tag of sorts and on foot, or on bikes. when they show up at my door, i sort of want to karate chop them. is that wrong?
I look at them and think, "Damn, it's hot out - they're wearing a cotton union suit under that suit." And then i think, "Damn, they're gonna rebel hard in a few years."
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