Those Darn Kids And Their Stereopticons

If you’re like me – and there’s been no evidence that you’re not – you have at least one family member who has failed to stay in step with technology.

You know it’s true. Your mom’s VCR is still flashing “12:00”, isn’t it?

Wait a minute. It’s not your mom’s? It’s yours? Ha ha ha.

Dummy.

Aw, I’m just kidding. Relax – you’re talking to someone with a stack of eight-tracks in the other room.

But this isn’t about my eight-tracks.

I was on the bus this morning – as is my wont – thinking about being another year older and what the odds were that any of my birthday cards would have money in them…

Yep – today is my birthday. I won’t tell you how old I am, but I’m old enough to drink in the bars now, so that’s cool.

It was 16 degrees below zero at the bus stop, and that there’s what we call a harsh reality. Luckily, I was wearing the clothing equivalent, weight-wise, of a kindergarten class; so when the next bus showed up, some 20 minutes later, the only thing truly starting to get cold were my feet.

Somewhere, today, there are little boys peeing outside, checking to see if it will freeze by the time it hits the ground.

I have it on good authority that it will not.

But this isn’t about little boys peeing outside!

I’ve a routine on the bus. I take off my hat and gloves, take a vitamin. I watch the people getting on, scan for anything that looks like it’s going to “happen”, ready to pull out my notebook if it does.

I got a nice window seat on the bus, in the back.

And that’s when I looked at the window. And there, etched in frost, between my elbow and shoulders, there it is: A Sign. My Birthday Present.

The very image of The Grinch.

I considered telling the person next to me, but she was busy highlighting everything in her college textbook (The Big Book of Sociology or People Are Fun or something – it had a lot of pictures).

The Virgin Mary on Toast? Yum!

The Grinch on a Metropolitan Transit Company Bus? What's it mean?

By the time I got to work, I had to tell someone.

“Ma,” I said (I call her “Ma” because that’s her name), “I rode on the bus next to a frosted image of The Grinch in the window. What’s it mean?”

“Cool!” she said. “Did you get a picture of it?”

I stared at her. “What?”

“Your cell phone! Don’t you have a camera on your cell?”

Dammit.

The worst part about it? I do. I do have a camera on my cell phone.

And that brings me back to the flashing “12:00”.

The urge to shake my fist in the air is undeniable. Dagnabit, you kids! Cameras on phones! I can’t keep up!