In Stride

25th September 2008

You, sir, are sporting oversized aviator sunglasses, and your shirt is unbuttoned to the middle of your chest. Your head is shaved. You are strutting backward up the street, your arm at a right angle to your body, as you point up the block, greeting someone you know.

That guy? The stranger in the distance? He is the man. “The man,” you would say, if he could hear you, but he is too far. Instead you point silently, profoundly. You point with emphasis.

…You are still doing this — still walking backward, pointing meaningfully at this person, who is no longer visible. The friend walking with you offers his feet an awkward smile, shakes his head.

Maybe the friend walking beside you has a girlfriend. And if he does, she wishes he would hang with you less.

5 thoughts on “In Stride

  1. sarah von

    I think your aviator might be friends with my former British co-worker. Allow me to paint you a picture:

    He has a jaw like a mandible and blue eyes that fairly bulge from his head. If you didn’t dislike him so intensely, he could pass for attractive. However, he alienates you by 1) changing into his uniform in front of students’ parents and maintaining eye contact with you while bare chested 2) telling you that he’s “not sure” about your shirt 3) teaching your kindergartners kung fu while subbing for you class. For his final trick, he arrives at work with a giant bandage taped to his puffy blond hair. Apparently he’s had some ‘growths’ removed from his scalp. But don’t worry, he informs you, this won’t stop him from break dancing with his crew this weekend.

  2. Avery Jones

    I think I know this man “the man”! I can also see his gold chain hanging around his neck, glistening as the sun hit it. He tells you that he just got back from Vegas, stayed at the Palms and will only drink drinks with umbrellas in them after winning BIG.

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