Watched The Graduate tonight and the same damn thing happened that's happened every time I've watched it. I over-identified. Soon as the credits rolled, I ran out to my car, hopped in, and started up. I couldn't put the top down on my red Alpha Romeo because it's a gold Saturn four-door hardtop, but I rolled down the window, and sped off, headed for Berkeley to find Elaine.
I used to get farther before reaility bit.
Tonight I was barely past the library three blocks away. Young guy, a whole lot closer to Ben Braddock's age, stepped off the sidewalk and started to cross the street ahead of me. I slowed to let him get to the other side alive. As I passed him, smoke from his cigarette drifted in through the window. One whiff snapped me back to myself.
I turned into the lot at the convenience mart. Went inside and bought a gallon of milk and drove home to resume being Mr Braddock and not, if Jesus loves me, Mr Robinson.
Careful with that stuff, Lance. Driving the wrong way on the Bay Bridge can get you killed.
Posted by: Mike Schilling | Sunday, June 08, 2008 at 12:05 AM