Customs

Rolling again. That was Canadian Customs. This severe older guy, (probably ten years younger than me) behind the podium, asked what I meant when I indicated on the declaration form I had meat and dairy and seeds and nuts I told him jerky and salami and cheese. The other question was what did I do for a living morphing into what did I used to do before retirement and I couldn’t think and I was shaking and then I thought oh yeah medical office that’s right, computer records that’s what, electronic records and I would have blathered on and on until I had a blood sugar seizure. Luckily he changed the subject to what was I doing in Canada, hmmm? I told him about the bus pass and the pretty much pointless ride out to Prince Rupert which he chuckled and waved me through have a nice time in Canada Miss Dillenbach and whoa, good to go!!

So now we’re on the way to Vancouver where I will find out if this ticket thing is how I think it is.

There was a very nice India-type Indian in the line in front of me so when I was done with the customs I asked him if we were done and yes so I started to follow him out to the bus only he wasn’t going to the bus he was going into the mensroom oops.

Then there was the handsome teutonic queer in the seat behind me who somehow worked it into the conversation that he rarely rode the bus though he did travel a lot for business, terribly deep voice but had on short shorts and a black leather sportcoat, handsome as he was, it looked wrong.He left the impression that he was, and he may have actually been from Palm Springs, I was embarrassed for him. Why, you ask? I will tell you as I would have told him had he asked, honey you don’t wear the black leather jacket with the 70s shorty shorts. You just don’t.

If you do the black sportcoat thing especially if it has the extra stitching details, not biker zips but an extra row of stitching here and there for a tailored kind of sophisticated vaguely menacing in a butch-bar kind of way you should go to your designer jeans and tasseled loafers, brown and lacquered-looking.

If you go with the shorts, go cargo, don’t go for the I-just-came-off-the-tennis-court thing, go for the cargo shorts, and a fleece jacket, or, if you must, the Ahmadinijad poplin thing. You don’t have to zip it up, but it does say “I am capable of relaxing”

The black leather looks with those strange shorts like you got lost on your way to a Village People rehearsal at the little Theater in Lompoc…