Intersection on the way home, red light, my way: roadworks. Tanned man in near blanched t-shirt looking down into a manhole, arms propped on a ladder that reaches all the way into the waterworks, sewage still--down on the gravel, he’s crouching, “it doesn’t get any better than this,” he says to his work-pal down in the hole. “Or so they say.”
Why was I the only one laughing at that crosswalk? How could anyone else not have found that supremely and majestically hilarious and fitting to Real Life? Oh, right: because everyone around me was a bloody tourist, from America, and stuffing peanut covered ice cream bars into their burned and chapped faces.
Isn’t the sun just incredible? Aren't travel expenses just the sheepy brain?? Oh, keen.
Good god.
"Man, it doesn't get better than this manhole, Rick. Or so I've heard. I mean, my Mindy's a good wife, but she'd never go all the way for me, not like this. I swear, Rick, just being nestled here in this hot, wet manhole with you is just the best. I'm glad we could share this moment together, as men."
Had I been there, rest assurred, you wouldn't have been the only one "peeing yourself just a bit". Damn tourists. They don't understand what bonds tie city sewage workers.
...As men.
Posted by: Xavier at June 7, 2005 9:23 AMThe (man)Hole That Binds.
(sounds like a good enough *Coming Attraction*).
"Good Enough". .or . . as it gets. interchangeable?
Posted by: caroline at June 7, 2005 6:39 PM