Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Vindicated
Spouse and I took the train to San Francisco, settling into a corner and staring out the window for the journey's length. There a tree, there a creek, there a turnstile shop.
"What?" I sat bolt upright in my seat. I startled Spouse.
There, on the other side of the railway tracks, was a store with an enormous painted sign:
TURNSTYLE SHOP
"Mater was right all along," I said, in purest wonder.
Long ago, on a train in Ireland, Mater made a curious remark about public restrooms and having to bring one's own turnstile to enter the cubicle.
She meant only to suggest that when we reached our destination we would both need coins to pass through the turnstiles and use the station's facilities; but I got a good laugh out of the matter anyhow, and, in strict accordance with my style, I was quite unable to let it go.
"Where would we get our own turnstiles?" I laughed at her. "Imagine dragging them around the city and on the train, just in case you need to use a restroom."
And now-
TURNSTYLE SHOP
I told Mater about it as soon as I could; and I suspect that I made her day.
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2 comments:
That is an unusual store to say the least, but San Francisco is the perfect setting for it. I detest the idea of having to have the right change in order use the facilities, but on the other hand some facilities are used by human beings who have either regressed to primitive behavior or have never progressed to the a level that can be deemed civilized. Perhaps a training course and a short test could be given to get a card that would allow you entrance. Pappy
Texican, you can say that again- that's really logical. It's only because of uncivilized people that we have to line up like that anyhow. They've spoiled it for the rest of us.
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