Cities and suburbs, real and imaginary.

Friday, October 3, 2008

rationally

yesterday at the museum (where I was working for TWELVE LONG HOURS... More on that in a minute...) a girl wearing a Tri-Delta Sorority Shirt, indicating that she was a recruiter for her sorority, came into the museum to do a homework assignment for some art class or somesuch wherein she was required to attend an art exhibit and answer questions about the exhibit.

She came up to me, early in the exhibit, and asked me if I could help her understand this word. She had circled a word on the question sheet, because she did not know what that word meant. I looked at the word. I blinked. Apparently, this non-freshman did not understand the word "RATIONALLY".

I shuddered inside. Important statement: I mention her sorirty not to decry sorority girls. I know many smart sorority girls. I mention it for two reasons. 1) Tri-Delta needs a book club. Like now. If you know any Tri-Deltas ure them to start a mandatory book club. Wow. Rationally, I can think of no reason why a non-Frehhman would not realize what the word "rationally: means. 2) I mention her sorority because wearing a recruiter shirt means she wasn't a Freshman. She was at least a Sophomore or Junior. Or worse: a Senior. With no knolwledge of this word.


Yikes.

Then, she bated her pretty little eyes at me, and cocked her pretty little head, and asked me if I could help her understand her questions because she wanted me to explain them for her (i.e. do her homework for her...).

Yikes.

I pointed her to all the signs everywhere, because they would answer all her questions for her. Of course, you'd have to read and interpret the words to achieve that. I understand why that might be a challenge.

It was suggested by others that maybe she was hitting on me. Which is, to me, even sadder. Why would pretending to be a defenseless idiot attract a mate? That is not attractive. That's pathetic.

Yikes.

I know sorority girls that aren't dumb, clingy moochers. For instance, Lola.

Happy Birthday Lola! I hope you had a great night. I hope you are drinking rationally to prevent hangovers and waking up in places you don't know - like the zoo! or the bathroom of an IHOP! - with people that you can't recognize.

J.P. Morgan threw a big party last night at the museum. I was there until the wee hours. You know the bill in 1999 that had a record number of lobbyists that destroyed our housing market and economy? Yeah, JP lobbied hard for it with record amounts of money. Also, Texas Republicans are leading the charge against the bailout package. Which means, to me, that many of the people I saw at the museum last night are celebrating at such an ironic moment. They destroyed the world economy to promote their own bank. They threw a party at the tense apex. They drank, ate caviar, and meandered priceless masterpieces with wives and daughters.

Were they the men that bought the congressmen that killed the bailout? I don't know. I don't know.

I smiled for hours into the dark, waiting for these well-dressed bankers to slowly work their way through their feast, thear liquor, their music, their art.

And me? All the time I was there, women looked down their noses at me, because I am only a security guard. Men mostly ignored any of my requests to keep their hands away from the art. I recall three separate occasions where I was given a look of derision and disgust for being a security guard, right there, at the edge of their party, looking at them, by three women in three different gold dresses, with embroidery shaped like precious coins.

Today, and all weekend, I will be at FenCon, and enjoying the company of fine fandom folks. I will FenCon my disgust away.

Fen strong. Fen true.

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