A moment this morning in bed. No movement but my heartbeat. My pulse beating against the fabric near my right ear. The sound of my heartbeat adding a tune to the pulse of the city outside the window.
Walking to the F Train/Tram with my bags to go down to Fisherman's Wharf. Just a little to late to catch it. Or so I thought. The train sits as I approach. "Are you going to Fisherman's Wharf?" Conductor, with a smile: "I'd better be. I waited here long enough for you."
On the tram with my big rolling duffel that is falling apart not so slowly any more. Man across the aisle: "that's a terribly large bag". Yes it is.
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7 comments:
I wish this was a plane story. I love replying "you should see the one I checked.."
I think ""that's a terribly large bag"." is code for something
I would have responded "It's my emotional baggage," but that's just me...
I just said it was light stuff in it. And no, G, he was not looking at my trunk when he said that. And S, I'll have to remember that next time.
Can't beleive I got a minute to check my blog... won't happen again. Off I go!
Good one NoR...tee hee!
don't we all have "large bags"? just saying ...
I guess having a big bag is better than being one.
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