There are things that happen that people never talk about. Strange things that happen that you experience with other people and there is an unspoken, “Let’s never talk about this–Ever.” Which is fine–some things don’t need to be discussed.

In this book I am reading, a couple is driving to their honeymoon spot. The new bride is agoraphobic (afraid of open spaces) and rarely leaves her home town of Ann Arbor, MI. For the honeymoon, the groom convinces her to drive over to the UP (Upper Peninsula for those of us in the “know”). This drive requires that they cross the Mackinac Bridge–something that is truly terrifying for any individual who is agoraphobic. Anyway, as they are driving over the bridge, the woman FREAKS out. And farts.

Now in this situation, do you say, “Wow, good one sweetie!” or do you keep your trap shut? I would assume that you would just roll down a window and not discuss it. And that’s what they did.

So I was thinking back to my marketing class in college. We were discussing cell phones and different advertising options for Motorola. A guy in the class raised his hand and suggested a spot that featured individuals hiding under their desks as the World Trade Center crashes down around them and they make their last phone calls home. The room was silent for a moment as the class absorbed what this crazy man was saying. Then, as it sunk in, a low hum of, “Oh my God” raced through the room. It was as if the entire class couldn’t believe what he said. A brief exchange occurred between the professor and the student in which the professor told him that was an inappropriate idea. And then the class went along as normal.

After class, no one discussed it–it was sort of surreal. Like a dream you think is real and then realize it was a dream (deep, Emily, deep). A few days later, I finally said to one of my group members, “Did that really happen?” The relieved look on her face said, “Thank God–I thought I lost my mind! That really DID happen.”


This morning I made a “fumble”. I forgot my wallet–and therefore my cash/debit cards/etc–and got all flustered and wound up sitting on a different car than usual with different people. Now, for any Metra riders, you know you get attached to your routine. The car I was in had too many people and I didn’t “know” them.

The guy I sat next to read his paper and I read my book. La la la. He disembarked at Clybourn, so I had to stand up and let him out of our seat. I sat back down and looked at where he had been sitting. He jammed his newspaper between the wall and the seat. And sitting on the floor was his old banana peal. EWW. What are people thinking??? What about the poor guy who has to clean up the car? And WHAT does this guy’s house look like!?

Anyway, I’m sure I will have more later.


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