"From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines, going where I list, my own master total and absolute, Listening to others, considering well what they say, Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating, Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me."
Walt Whitman (1819-92)
"When I look back now over my life and call to mind what I might have had simply for taking and did not take, my heart is like to break."
Akhenaton (d. c.1354 BC)
And now, the current weather, from some random person we pulled off the street:
Friday, January 21, 2005
Blade
im-pos-tor Function: noun
Etymology: Late Latin impostor, from Latin imponere
1 : one that assumes false identity or title for the purpose of deception
2 : something that really ticks me off...unless I want to be one.
"WooHoo!!! Yeah, we're British! WooHoo!" he yelled madly at the top of his lungs, wildly waving a confederate flag because to him, it looked vaguely like a Union Jack.
We were cruising down the boulevard in Myrtle Beach in 1979 just days after my accident, this time using the Jeep CJ-5 that my dad was letting me use until they "fixed" my Spitfire. I had two guys with me. One was British, and the other was incredibly grotesquely fat.
And I have no idea now how I knew them, where they came from, or anything. But they were there. And the British one was having way too much fun.
"WooHoo! We're British!!!" And the fat one just sat in the back, making the Jeep lean and filling the entire two seater back seat from armrest to armrest.
I hoped no one I knew would see me.
One of the first things I had done when I got back was to buy a cane, since my knees were giving me such trouble. But I didn't buy just any cane. No, not for me. I bought a sword cane.
Those things are pretty cool, and along the way I've owned two of them. This first one had a hidden button on it that, when pushed, would drop the majority of the cane (which functioned in reality as a scabbard) and reveal a wicked looking shiney 20" blade.
The second night I had it, I went to get the Jeep after work, and as I came to the first red light, some idiot started climbing into the back window. I turned and pulled the blade.
"Whoa, it's cool man," he said, throwing up his arms and jumping out.
"Shoot, the thing works," I said to myself.
So here I was, cruising the boulevard with a Jeep, a crazy Englishman, a sword cane, and a really, really fat guy making sure I had good traction.
All of this didn't matter, of course, because as usual traffic was at a complete standstill. That's why we liked cruising the boulevard, it was a great place to meet girls, and for them to meet us. Or at least it usually seemed like it was.
My British friend finally got tired of yelling and stuck the flag in the back of the Jeep so it could flap in the breeze. Several cars ahead of us was a convertible full of girls who seemed to be getting some trouble from some guys.
"You girls know it's illegal to drink in public in Myrtle Beach," one of the guys said. "I'm going to have to fine you for that, maybe take you in."
The girls were apologetic, but the guys would have none of it. They were really harrassing the poor girls.
"You know something?" I said to English. "I know every policeman in Myrtle Beach, and those guys aren't policemen."
"Really? You mean they're impersonating policemen?"
"Yeah. You wanna have a bit of fun?"
"Sure."
I pulled over into a parking lot, getting the Jeep out of the flow of traffic, in the event it actually did flow at some point. We all got out and walked over to the girl's car.
"Excuse me," I said, "but we're from Myrtle Beach Police Department Undercover Unit and I don't know you." I flashed my college ID really quickly.
"Oh, uh, we're new. We just came on the force today." He was visibly shaken.
"I don't believe you. Where is your patrol car?"
"It's that van over there."
"Why does it have Tennessee tags?"
"Uh, we haven't gotten them changed yet."
The three of us looked at the three of them for a minute. English and Fatguy hadn't said a word. "I'm going to have to call this in. I'll give you five minutes to get out of here first." Not being able to resist, I opened and closed my sword cane for emphasis.
They took off like the devil was after them, and we got back into our Jeep with a wink at the girls in the convertible, and pull back into the line of traffic.
About a minute later, the cute girl that was driving the convertible jumps out, comes running back, and plants a huge kiss on me, then runs back to her car, eyes sparkling the whole way.
"Wow."
We motioned for them to pull over at the pier in front of us, and so did we. Long story short, we ended up walking on the beach in short order. There were three of them, three of us, it worked.
English, Fatguy and the two other girls headed down the beach. The cute girl's name was Sharon, I think, and we sat under the pier on the sand, talking.
Things were just about to start getting interesting, when Sharon looked me right in the eyes, deeply, and said...
"Excuse me a second."
She then leaned over to the other side and threw up on the sand. And not just a little ladylike rolf, it was one of those huge gushing regurgitations that you get from way too much beer trying to leave all at once from the closest orifice. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve and turned back towards me, ready to pick up where we had left off.
"Let's go find your friends..." I said.
Women! Can't live with them...pass the beer nuts.
--Norm (Cheers)
im-pos-tor
