Not long ago, I was waiting for a bus on the corner of Sterns and Bellflower in Long Beach after having purchased two heavy bags of groceries from Trader Joe’s when I suddenly saw a homeland security bus barreling right towards me. It was an ominous beast. It had bars on the tinted window, just like a prison bus, and was painted black. It also had a nefarious Homeland Security logo emblazoned on the side. The logo contained a plethora of esoteric, hermetic symbols that looked like they had been specifically designed to make a paranoid population even more paranoid. The logo looked majestic and stupid at the same time. I wanted to get a photo of me standing in front of it for a potential author photo.
To my amazement, the bus turned the corner and stopped in
front of a park only about a hundred feet away from where I was sitting. I couldn’t believe it. Who could pass up an opportunity like this? Even though I could see my own bus
approaching, I decided to pick up both of my grocery bags and waddle across the
street toward the bus. I happened to
have a camera on me at the time (I can’t remember why), so I looked around
to see if I could find anyone who might stop and take my photo in front of the
bus. I saw an old Asian lady coming out
of an office building. I held out the
disposable camera toward her and said, “Excuse me, ma’am, could you please take
a photo of me standing in front of this Homeland Security bus? I need an author photo.” The lady ignored me, as if I didn’t exist,
and kept walking.
I glanced around in desperation, hoping to see someone
else. But there was no one. I couldn’t waste too much time waiting for
someone else to show up. Besides, who
knew how long the bus would stay there?
I had only one logical option.
I walked up to the bus, set my overstuffed bags down on
either side of me, pressed my face against the opaque window embedded in the
front door, and peered inside. Vaguely,
I could see the bus driver sitting in his chair reading a newspaper that had
been draped over the steering wheel. The
bus driver had a black moustache and a power-U of frizzy dark hair ringing the
back of his head. He looked like every
cop I’ve ever met. There didn’t appear
to be anyone else inside the bus.
I knocked on the door and tried to get his
attention. I kept waving
crazily until he relented and opened the door. “What?” he snapped, as if annoyed for
some reason.
“Excuse me,” I said, “sorry to disturb you. Could you take my picture standing in front
of the logo on the side of your bus?” I
wiggled the yellow disposable camera in the air, like a rattle to a baby.
He looked confused.
He just stared at me for awhile, then said, “NO!”
“Oh?” I said. “Well…
why?”
The dude said, “I can’t
do that!”
“Why not?” I said.
“Homeland security!”
“Uh… oh. Well, thank
you anyway.” I picked up the two bags of
overstuffed Trader Joe’s groceries and waddled all the way back to my bus stop
and sat down. Who knew how long it would take for the next bus to
arrive? I was a little annoyed at the
man. I glanced over my shoulder at him
and was startled to see that he had gotten out of the driver’s seat and was now
standing near the back of the bus and staring at me intently. He did this for a long time. I tried to ignore him and read the back of
the cereal box sitting in one of the grocery bags. Organic High Fiber O’s contained nine grams
of fiber per serving. Hopefully, it
would help me poop better in the morning.
After reading the entire list of ingredients, I glanced up again and saw
that the man was using some sort of hi-tech camera to take a picture of
me. He took a couple of shots, then
climbed back into the bus and drove away.
Why couldn’t he have done that when I asked him to? After all, taking my picture is exactly what I had requested in the
first place! The only difference was
that now I wouldn’t have a copy of
the photo. I’d have to initiate a
complex Freedom of Information Act merely to attain a copy of my own author
photo.
Watching the black bus dwindle away into the distance, I
began to grow a little angry. After all,
his answer to my question wasn’t sufficient at all. “Homeland
Security!” It made no sense. In what way did that address the
question? In the near future “Homeland
security” will no doubt be the catchall response to all queries:
“Why didn’t you do your homework?”
“Homeland Security!”
“Who was that girl I saw you with last night?”
“Homeland Security!”
“Are you wearing a condom?”
“Homeland Security!”
It’s ironic that in the Age of Information we receive less
and less information from Those In Authority.
All we receive are abstract responses like “Homeland Security!” It’s a
distressing situation, growing more distressing by the second.
And to this day I can’t
help but wonder what exactly that fine gentleman is doing with my author photo
right now.
Of course, if I actually had the opportunity to pose such a
question, I have no doubt as to what his response would be.
No comments:
Post a Comment