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<li class="cat-item cat-item-2"><a href="https://blogs.bootsnall.com/Bucky/category/2" >Who is Bucky?</a> (1)
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The more eagle-eyed amongst you may have noticed that my most recent post has vanished. It involved Gartie the Garter snake who lives around my house, and Ratty the Rat who is now sadly no longer with us. Due to a server error at my blog host, Their stories are now erased from history. I have posted some symbolic pictures below.
I was sitting at this very computer preparing to begin my regular evening ritual of reading the following days British newspaper. Then some friends popped round to see if I fancied going out for a drink. How could I prioritise the battles of Blair over the pints of Pennsylvania?
The car almost full, we stopped outside aother house, called “Emerson” to pick up Benjmain, who had gone in there to borrow some mone from his brother. As our car came to a halt, the fire alarms started. I went into Emerson, and headed immediately for the basement, where the community’s pottery studio was located. Perhaps the kiln had overheated? One of Emerson’s coworkers, Mia, was standing by the control unit trying to shut off the alarm. Benjamin appeared from behind me, and showed me the source. He had come in to a darkened basement and reached for a light switch. Or what he thought was a light switch…we found a screwdriver and managed to reset the alarm manually. Anyway the really surreal (perhaps scary is a more apt word) part of this whole event was that despite nearly 5 minutes of loud noise and an occasional flashing blue light, only 2 of the students in the house had actually left their rooms…
…A couple of hours later and we were stopping at the “Wawa” gas station to grab a bite to eat on the way home. There was a large sandwich counter, and a young dude with an exceptionally fuzzy moustache manning it. I decided that it was a good time for my first Philly cheesesteak. I know, I know. I should have waited until I could sample the real deal from one of the joints in Italian south Philadelphia. But I was hungry. And my stomach is a persuasive organ.
I asked Fuzzy for my sandwich and he pointed me to a touch-screen computer in front of the counter. I started pushing buttons, making choices. Then out came a printout of my order and Fuzzy got to work. Now I have no problem with technology where it’s appropriate. But there was me and there was Fuzzy and there was not another soul within 30 feet of the sandwich counter. Could he not have just taken my order, as sandwich makers have taken orders from hungry consumers since first the Earl of Sandwich did create this culinary delight? Has society really got to the point where interacting with a computer in a gas station is preferable to actually talking to a human being? And is the Wawa computer a friendly machine to talk to? Fuck no! It’s mean. It asked me if I wanted sauteed onions on my cheesesteak and offered “no” as the only response. Now I’ve never eaten a cheesteak before. How would I know that they sometimes come with sauteed onions? Well that arse of a computer saw fit to let me know exactly what I was missing. No explanation. No little message saying: “There are no sauteed onions tonight because Fuzzy is a lazy git who never got round to making them.” Nothing.
As it goes, my cheesesteak was rather tasty. And Emerson didn’t burn down. So a good night all in all.
I should have been halfway to America by now. A few glorious days in the New York summer with my wonderful girlfriend Jane, and then off to rural Pennsylvania to live & work as a volunteer for a year. Instead, ... [Continue reading this entry]
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