There was a line at the passport counter today. I found this out mid-good-morning when the clerk cut me off with a “talk to the hand” gesture swiped left to indicate four other people – an older couple and a younger couple – waiting to be served .
Four and a half people, actually, if you count whatever was inside the younger couple’s stroller, five and a half if you count me, which seemed a mighty big crowd of passport applicants for ten o’clock on a Tuesday at the Washington Street post office. A veritable exodus, in fact, a stampede.
Hoping to lighten things up, I said to the rest as I stepped behind them, “This must be because of Trump!”
Then the older wife corrected me. One quiet word.
“No,” she said.
As if the crazy man had suggested a game of naked Twister.
“I was making a joke,” I said. (Was that not obvious?) (Glaringly?) “About the line.”
Whereupon the younger husband moved protectively toward his wife and child.
We’ll be here all week, folks.
CDs in the lobby.
Tell your friends.