Gift of the Magi
I woke up this morning with one purpose and one purpose only: to deal with the egregious speeding ticket I got last Monday. The icing on the cake that was the total ruination of that day was that, for the first time ever, I got a speeding ticket on the effing Ohio Turnpike. That’s right. Apparently, I was doing 82 in a 65. (I do have to say…I drive a Kia Rio5 which I love but I would have a hard time believing I could actually coax it up to 82 without it internally combusting…thank you Sir). Alas, I digress…I had to get a money order to pay the ticket. So I went to the bank (a long lead in…I see that now).
Thus, I was perfectly positioned for what will surely be the best part of this Monday. As I returned to school, grabbed up my Morning Coffee (capitalized to show it due reverence) at Metropolis, and walked to school in my fantastically cloppy-but-manageable modestly high-heeled shoes (ala Jen Leonard), I saw the greatest thing perhaps ever seen on Kenmore Avenue.
Driving up the street was a golf cart, controlled by two burly men, their appearance enhanced by the overly puffy winter-wear they happened to be sporting. This in itself was kind of funny. But wait, there’s more. Hitched to the back of the golf cart was a cart with one of the Magi, riding a camel, facing backwards. (Loyola happens to own and proudly display yearly one of the ugliest, tackiest manger scenes I’ve ever laid eyes on. If I can get a picture, you can bet I’ll share it.) Ironically, the golf cart was traveling north (probably following the Star) but the Wise Man (I think it was Balthazar), now reduced to being toted around by a golf cart, was facing south. The bewilderment and consternation painted onto that figure was especially poignant for the context.
It was so stunningly unexpected, out of context, and just sad, sad, sad that I started laughing out loud and actually had to stop and compose myself. It was bizarre. And probably the greatest gift I never could have imagined I wanted.
Thank you Balthazar. And good luck to ya.