Smelly, Grumpy Old Men On A Bus

My day started at 0400, when I reluctantly dragged my sorry ass out of bed and reached out desperately for the Dew.  I’ve never taken Amtrak before, so the trip in was, well, a trip.  There were lots and lots of people who obviously do this every day, greeting each other, sitting together, and firing up their laptops for the long trip in.  It was exceedingly slow going, in my view.  At least when driving, you have something to concentrate on—avoiding that 60% of Sacramento drivers commuting Westward who drive worse than cats stealing a car.

I attended a training they called “boot camp.”  Because of my job function, they decided to provide me with one of the matching women’s fashion camouflage fatigue shirts.  These women are both about 5’2 and a size 0 or size 2.  I tried to put the shirt on, but, well, I’m a middle-aged white woman who is nearly 5’8 and who has my mother’s genes.  So, that was the easy way out of wearing the shirt.   Maybe Em, the 13-year-old who weighs 100 pounds will find it stylish enough to wear to school.

It was a great class though.  I got to participate in the class with current and future leaders of my great company.  I was pretty impressed.

The trip home was more interesting.  I didn’t take the high commute conveyances, but did grab the bus to Emeryville.  It had 5 people on it.  The weather in SF was about 75 today, so the inside of the bus was about 90.  There is no A/C on these buses, so we sweltered while we waited.  Then, he shut the door, sealing us in, to take off and I realized I was surrounded by four very sweaty men whose deodorants were not the 24-hour variety.

Made it home safe and sound and the J-Man had carefully placed the dinner in the oven, per the instructions.  He, it turned out, had turned the heat down 100 degrees because he said the light kept going out—don’t know why the temp went down instead of up, but I explained that ovens stop being lit when they’ve reached the right temperature.  These are the little things we adults don’t think of when explaining a task to a child.  However, I’m sure it will be the best dinner ever tonight, made by J-Man’s own hands--or at least heated up.  You Rock, J-Man!

Published on: Sep 12, 2006