Buried among my collection of well-worn black T-shirts emblasioned with sardonic sayings, an old favorite surfaced the other day. The shirt has a small graphic of a penguin helplessly flapping its wings while underneath it reads, “I wish I could fly.”
I pulled it on without really thinking about it before heading into town with Dusty. Now, I don’t know what it is about my sartorial sensibility that seems to invite comment, but I seem to encounter a disproportionate number of people who take an intense interest, and/or umbrage, toward what I wear when leaving the shack.
On this trip, I ran into a woman waiting at the ATM who turned to me, looked me up and down, and asked, “Do you?”
Do I? I thought. Well that depends. Primarily on what the hell you are talking about. I might. Then again, I might not.
“Excuse me?” I asked, not entirely sure she was talking to me. It’s hard to tell, what with Blueteeth and schizophrenia both running rampant on the street these days.
“DO you?” OK, now I’m pretty sure I don’t, and if my dog wasn’t currently rolling around at your feet, I’d have her drive you off. “Do you wish you could fly?”
What the … ? Oh, the shirt. “Erm … sure, doesn’t everybody?”
“Hmmmpf.” The woman turned away dismissively and ended the odd little philosophical tête-à-tête. Was that the wrong answer? Do I really wish I could fly?
After walking and ruminating on it, I have to admit that, no, flying isn’t really on my short list of things I wish I could do. Understanding women, for instance, would trump flight in a heartbeat, although I realize that it is slightly less likely to actually happen.
What do you wish you could do?