The light is silver off the water as I cross the Key Bridge rounding Baltimore – it’s that special sun that is weakened, having fought it’s way through the clouds to the surface afrer a long grey day.
It’s a long drive from College Park to Huckleberry’s Coffeehouse – avoiding other irate commuters as we wend our way north. I’m amazed that traffic has slowed enough to allow for some interesting activities in the drivers around me – of course, tearing my nan bread in half to eat the leftovers from my lunch of kabobs and tomatoes I obviously have more hands free than I ought to – but REALLY? I guess the woman in the Honda next to me has a hot date tonight as she pulls some baggy boxers out from under her
dress and throws them on the dash before wiggling into something tight and black and pink which vanishes under the folds of her dress before she gets back into a proper driving position.
Ah, among the many dangers of being on I-95, women changing their underwear shouldn’t be one of them unless they are in the vehicle with ME. I see a groundhog watching our human cattle train while eating whatever it is that groundhogs eat and I’m glad that we’re giving him a neverending if questionably variable smorgasbord of entertainment.
Hell, maybe I should take off my pants for him too?
