Vandalized!
Every day, a few minutes after 5:00 pm, I roll up outside the K-State Student Union and pick up Julie for our ride home from work. I like to think of our special time together while commuting as a date!
Usually, Julie walks right up, opens the passenger door, and hops in. No hesitation. Casual observers may note that she's used cars before.
Today was different. Today, she paused. Following a five-count, Julie opened the door, but didn't get in. "You know about this, don't you?" she asked.
I initially thought she was talking about how car doors work. I quickly re-thought that first guess and reminded myself that, unlike me, Julie generally expects people to be normal and doesn't do a lot of back checking. Her loss.
"Uh, what?" I responded, eloquently enunciating the first syllable.
"Have you seen this?"
"What? Hop in."
"Get out and look at this."
So, now I'm worried. Julie seemed pretty weirded out. My first thought was that somehow the side of my car had been involved in a parking lot crime and there was (somehow) a body pasted to the passenger side. Then I thought it might be an animal. These thoughts were stupid, but it was after five and I try not to operate my brain after work.
It looked like Julie wasn't going to get in so I acquiesced. Leaving the car running, I got out and and went around to the passenger side. Decorating the door like some sort of magical ward preventing Julie's entry was this 2-color drawing:
The portion that was drawn in black was drawn with sharpie and the pink was done with some sort of paint marker. The handwriting for the two messages was different and I could only assume that the perpetrators of this crime - mostly against art - were on a date of their own.
After Julie showed me her door, we both hopped in and enjoyed an awkward ride home. It's rush week for the sororities and there was a beautiful moment when we pulled up to a stoplight and beheld a parade of rushes moving down the sidewalk at our right. There were glances. Some of the looks we received were askance.
Once we were home, I faced a difficult decision. Nobody has ever thought to exercise their art talents on my car before. Maybe this was their best effort. Maybe it was a statement. It certainly didn't say anything I disagreed with. Who am I to destroy something unique and special?
Ultimately though, it didn't look like a very strong effort. Based on my experience cleaning sharpie off dry erase boards, I had a pretty good idea how to clean it off. A few minutes and some rubbing alcohol later, the passenger door was once more an empty canvas.
Usually, Julie walks right up, opens the passenger door, and hops in. No hesitation. Casual observers may note that she's used cars before.
Today was different. Today, she paused. Following a five-count, Julie opened the door, but didn't get in. "You know about this, don't you?" she asked.
I initially thought she was talking about how car doors work. I quickly re-thought that first guess and reminded myself that, unlike me, Julie generally expects people to be normal and doesn't do a lot of back checking. Her loss.
"Uh, what?" I responded, eloquently enunciating the first syllable.
"Have you seen this?"
"What? Hop in."
"Get out and look at this."
So, now I'm worried. Julie seemed pretty weirded out. My first thought was that somehow the side of my car had been involved in a parking lot crime and there was (somehow) a body pasted to the passenger side. Then I thought it might be an animal. These thoughts were stupid, but it was after five and I try not to operate my brain after work.
It looked like Julie wasn't going to get in so I acquiesced. Leaving the car running, I got out and and went around to the passenger side. Decorating the door like some sort of magical ward preventing Julie's entry was this 2-color drawing:
At left, in black, "I [heart] Penis". At right, in pink, "I [heart] vagina".
The portion that was drawn in black was drawn with sharpie and the pink was done with some sort of paint marker. The handwriting for the two messages was different and I could only assume that the perpetrators of this crime - mostly against art - were on a date of their own.
After Julie showed me her door, we both hopped in and enjoyed an awkward ride home. It's rush week for the sororities and there was a beautiful moment when we pulled up to a stoplight and beheld a parade of rushes moving down the sidewalk at our right. There were glances. Some of the looks we received were askance.
Once we were home, I faced a difficult decision. Nobody has ever thought to exercise their art talents on my car before. Maybe this was their best effort. Maybe it was a statement. It certainly didn't say anything I disagreed with. Who am I to destroy something unique and special?
Ultimately though, it didn't look like a very strong effort. Based on my experience cleaning sharpie off dry erase boards, I had a pretty good idea how to clean it off. A few minutes and some rubbing alcohol later, the passenger door was once more an empty canvas.
A metaphor for vanilla - not vanilla the bean, vanilla the metaphor.
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