Friday, October 09, 2009
Scenes from Amidst the Tumult
Long line for flu shots, about half the length of the 3rd floor in the Fabiola Building. When I finally got to the sticking stage, the shooter asked me my birthdate: six-ten-forty four, I said.
And she burst into song:
In 1944/My mother went to war/She lost her girdle/And shot a turtle/And then the war was done
I laughed long and hard, though not so robustly they had to call security. The shooter said she learned the song from her mother when the shooter was a little girl. The shooter said she figured the song meant more than it said if you know what I mean?
Yeah. Like the Da Vinci Code, I said.
When E. and I left, the flu line had swollen and doubled back on itself. E. said this was a result of anxiety and confusion. Even those who do not follow the news closely and who live by word-of-mouth had picked up that there was a sort of flu thing going on. They had (metaphorically) gotten in line because there was a line. E. hoped that those who really also need the Genuine Swine Flu shot will come back and get that, too.
I'm wit' you, I said, bantering as furiously as Nick Charles to Nora.