06/17/05
I think you will all agree that it makes for a very interesting start to your day when you turn the corner to find four (count’em 4) police cars, with red lights flashing, parked outside the front door of your office. For those of you who are unaware, my office is located in one of the most crime/robbery/killing infested, gang controlled, poverty ridden areas of the city. It’s one of those situations which bring to mind the question, “Do I really want to go to work today, or should I just keep driving?”
Other questions that have been bothering me lately…..
Has it ever been determined who put the ram in the ramma lamma ding dong? Or more importantly, who wrote the book of love? And if not, isn’t it about time they put CSI on the case?
Why would people call a guy Maurice if his name is really Steve, and just what the hell is the pompetous of love?
As I was walking from my car to the entrance of the UMB Bank Pavilion (does anybody else realize how redundant that name is…The letters UMB stand for United Missouri Bank, so in reality when we say UMB Bank Pavilion we are saying United Missouri Bank Bank Pavilion…Or is it just me?) Tuesday evening to see a John Fogerty concert (for those of you who do not know who he is, just email me and I’ll explain), I saw a small tent set up by a local “oldies” radio station on the grass just outside the venue. I had gone to the concert venue straight from work so I was early and there weren’t many people around, and the “oldies” station is the one I listen to, so I meandered over to check it out. In front of the tent were four young (20-something) people, 3 girls and one lone guy. Two of the young ladies were just standing to the side watching while the third was performing a callisthenic known a “Jumping Jacks” (anybody out there need an explanation of Jumping Jacks?). The young man was standing to one side, observing, with his arms folded across his chest. As I paused, that I, too, might observe, I noticed the exerciser’s form was excellent (and she did the jumping jacks real well, too). She was clad in a pair of snug fitting shorts, but they were not nearly as form fitting as the short-cropped white T-shirt she wore. To say nature had been VERY generous to this young lady would be a gross understatement. As proof, let me just say that the “oldies” station call-letters, which were printed on the front of her skin-tight T-shirt, were displayed thusly…KL OU. With all that said, I will remind my readers that she was doing Jumping Jacks (actually, I know I didn’t have to remind you of that, I just wanted to think about it again). Her athletic performance was, indeed, something to behold since certain aspects of her physicality displayed no visible means of support (if you know what I mean). The fact that she did not give herself two black eyes was testament to her perky youthfulness. A small pang of disappointment was, understandably, felt when she ceased her workout. However, she was only still long enough to take a deep breath before she launched into a series of cartwheels. This not only exhibited her admirable athletic abilities, but also displayed formidable flexibility. And, thanks to the earth’s gravitational influence on the cropped T-shirt she was wearing, that was not all that was displayed. Once again showing excellent form, she would come to an upright position, and reach up to pull the hem of the T-shirt (which was now up under her chin) down before proceeding to launch into yet another flawless performance. This went on for 5 or 6 repetitions. I’m not sure how many it was because I lost count (go figure). But, I am sure that at the end of each repetition she would stop just long enough to straighten the shirt before proceeding. I noticed the young man appeared to be as transfixed by this athletic performance as I was. Since we both had on dark sunglasses I was unable to determine where his eyes were looking, but I had a good idea. After our young gymnast finished the series of cartwheels she appeared to be in a quandary as to what to do next. With a puzzled look on her face she looked in my direction. I immediately set to performing Jumping Jacks myself. She apparently got the idea, because she commenced to mimic my calisthenics. As soon as she got into a good rhythm I ceased my gyrations (it was hot as hell out there that night) and went back to admiring her form (and the Jumping Jacks, too). After a short time I tore my gaze from her and glanced at the young man who was also watching. His countenance turned in my direction and even through the dark sunglasses I could tell our eyes met. At that instant we both gave a slight, dirty-old-man-in-training, smile to one another and I knew he and I were on the very same wavelength. With that I turned to leave the young lady to him and proceeded to my seat to await the start of the concert. Fogerty put on a great show, playing all the old Creedence songs I’d hoped he would. I thoroughly enjoyed the concert itself, but will also long remember the rather novel “warm-up act” which preceded it.