Possumblog

Pre- & Postprandial Perambulations

I decided to do something different for lunch today for a change. Since Reba no longer works downtown, I don't wander very far down the sidewalk anymore, but today I got in the mood to walk down to 1st Avenue and go visit one of our old haunts, the Mexican place (variously styled as the Tower Cafe, Sabor Mazatlan, or Sabor Latino) over in the Brown-Marx building. (Old postcard versus the current look.)

I don't particularly know why I decided to pick today to do this--although it's not that hot--only about 93 degrees with 55% humidity--it's still hot enough to make the trek uncomfortably sweaty.

Tips to cope?

1. Always walk on the shady side of the street. If there's no shady side, walk in some large person's shadow.

2. Walk slowly. Going fast is just a recipe for disaster. It reminds me of a guy I saw when I was walking back. He works here in the building and goes out and "jogs," bless his stout little thighs, during lunch. He was staggering around like he'd just got through running a marathon, shuffling his feet and swinging his arms in a cartoon-like simulacrum of actual running. He was only two blocks from the office. Don't run. It's bad for you.

3. Don't look at ugly people. It's uncomfortable enough as it is without having to put up with that.

4. Don't slowly walk eight blocks on the shady side of the street looking only at attractive people, eat a large Mexican lunch, then walk back eight blocks to work. By the time you do that, all that rich creamy queso and flavorfully spiced meat will have started doing the flamenco in your gizzard.

The walk itself was actually fine, and entertaining. First up were two women crossing the street at 6th Avenue. Against the light. With traffic coming. One lost her sandal as she was ambling across, causing her companion to stop and look incredulously at the now single-shod woman. With traffic coming. The woman mosied back and put her shoe on and commented to her friend that those sure weren't the shoes to be wearing to cross the street in. Call me crazy, but it might help if you weren't walking out into oncoming traffic. Dolt.

After I passed by them, one of the computer guys caught up with me. Turns out he was going the same place, so we walked together. He's one of the good guys, and it has nothing to do with the fact that he's a competitive centerfire rifle shooter or drives a Volvo. He's just a good egg. And knows his computery stuff. Big controversy today was dealing with a particularly buffoonish, brought-collards-to-the-Xmas-party fellow on our floor. Seems this goober was upset that the system administrators have access to his computer. CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT!? He got to ranting and raving about what if someone got into his files and sent something out under his name.

As. If. Mister.

For people who see a conspiracy behind every vapor trail and a black helicopter under every rock, there seems to be some kind of rule says you must believe that everything you do is so stinkin' important to the ChiCom or the Rethuglicans that people are constantly trying to get into your computer files and see what you're doing. Even if you're a low-level bureaucrat with absolutely no tasks of any importance. It's like these people who fancy themselves as enemies of the state and just KNOW the FBI has a file on them. Adds to their sense of self, I suppose.

Computer Guy was just beside himself trying to get a grip on the situation. He finally wound up telling the guy that if it didn't bother the Chief Executive and his chief of staff to have admin control over their computers, there was derned well nothing on HIS computer that was any more important.

Nothing like a nice cup of shut up.

Got to the restaurant and he went on and joined his party and I sat down at a booth. Ordered, ate my chips, drank my Diet Coke, looked out the window at the hot pavement, wondered when they would FINALLY get around to moving in at the old McDonald's location, and ate my food. Boy, it was good. Much better than I remember. And much more perspiration-inducing. Paid the cute cashier girl (who no longer remembers me ::sniff::) and walked back up 20th.

And now I am very sleepy. I sure wish we could get that siesta thing started in this country.

Posted by Terry Oglesby at August 18, 2005 02:36 PM