Here is just a sampling of my thoughts on the first Tuesday of September...
> Steve Irwin. He worked with dangerous animals - tackling creatures better left untackled, wrestling reptiles even The Rock would avoid and taking risks (at least perceived risks) that no one in their right mind would take - but something about the Crocodile Hunter made him seem invincible, somehow death-resistant. When I heard the sad news that a stingray killed him over the weekend, I was shocked. It's still hard to believe it isn't a morbid prank of some sort. With energy and exuberance, he brought important issues like the environment and wildlife conservation to the attention of a worldwide audience. I'll miss him.
> slow lane tailgaters. I'm not a fan of people who use the slow lane as a passing lane. More than that, I don't like people who tailgate me (and others) in the slow lane, especially when there are three other lanes available for passing. I don't know where they're hoping I'll go and I suspect they don't care as long as I get out of their way. I'm just waiting for the day when one of these anti-pass-on-the-left drivers passes me using the shoulder.
> hiking alone. Hiking alone is fun. Or so I've heard. When you hike alone, you don't have to worry about your pace. You can walk as fast or as slow as you want. When you hike alone, you feel more in tune with nature. You can stand still and take in your surroundings more completely. Hiking alone isn't bad as long as you don't have an overactive imagination. If you do, then you'll probably find yourself running from every shadow, jumping at every sound and screaming a lot, all of which can be extremely exhausting. Or so I've heard.
> loud talkers. When people on public transit have conversations, whether it be face to face or over the phone, they seem to forget where they are. They speak loudly, as if they were in a crowded bar or a guest on The Jerry Springer Show.
Today's example of a loud talker was a young white man in his early twenties. He had a lanky build, shaved head, oversized black shirt and baggy blue jeans. He boarded the bus in the middle of a phone conversation with one of his buddies. As he made his way down the aisle to an open seat, his volume didn't drop, so the following sentences were audible in all their glory for everybody to hear...
"I was drinkin' Coronas, bro. Yeah, just chillin' and drinkin' hella Coronas. Fo' sure. What? Are we meeting up later? Nah? Aww... then I just be chillin' with Big Red, bro. Fo' sure. Right. Out."
It was the most eloquent piece of poetry I couldn't help but overhear in a long time.
