Thursday, January 3, 2008

Alps Driving, eh Quiet Man?

The day the Wrongs party was supposed to be held, I had a 9:30 am appointment with Fred at his store. At 9:15 I was in my office and Fred rings. He wanted to know where I was. Geez, your store is less than one minute’s drive I thought as I reassured him I would be right down.

As I exited the office to my car, I could tell the snow was going to start soon. You could smell it in the air. The air was crispy cold yet not iced. The sky was a whitish grey and clear. This is what would bring the snow.

I parked and hurried in to see Fred. I was dying for some sort of caffeine. I have this weird sense of duty sometimes, stemming from my Capricornus personality, that really irks me. I should have made Leonine Fred wait and went to get my morning coffee, rather than give in to my rationalization that I would get a cup when I was done.

Fred ushers me into the back of his store where his office is located.

I see the papers we had prepared the night before.

The people who were going to sign these papers for Fred arrived and I had to re-do everything since Fred did not have the correct information. Or these dunce like people were unable to provide the information correctly.

I had my portable printer that is paired with my laptop. I was so tired. After about an hour, I almost had the papers done and printed out for review before finalization.

Fred then gets a call and its Quiet Man.

After a while, I look up and see Quiet Man in the doorway of Fred’s office. He was dressed in some sort of kahki color that sharply contrasted with his starkly coal black hair. He was holding a Starbucks coffee cup in its red and white holiday finery.

“Oh, hello Quiet Man,” I said as I glanced at him. He was looking at me with those eyes in a quiet way.

“Hello, Muse,” he said normally, most likely due to the strangers in the room with me.

He chit-chatted with Fred about dropping off a four wheel drive vehicle for Fred. Fred handed him the keys to his Lexus.

These people and Fred started to question me about doing some other kind of paperwork and I listened then decided I needed some COFFEE. I also wanted to get out of there to see if I could talk to Quiet Man.

“Fred, Fred,” I told him,”listen to me: I need coffee, Fred.”

“Muse, I send someone to buy you coffee,” he offered.

“No, Fred, you don’t understand. I want to get up out of this chair and get my own coffee.”

And with that, I rose, put on my jacket and assured them I would be back shortly.

I darted out of the store and stood on the sidewalk.

I saw Fred’s Lexus in the parking lot. It had started to snow. Those big, fluffy softly falling yet dense flakes where drifting down steadily. The parking lot started to look like it was covered in the most cloudy soft, shaggy like carpet.

Quiet Man was in Fred’s car, warming it up. He had moved the windshield wiper so that it only cleared where the wiper would reach.

Good, I thought, he was still around.

I decided to walk past the Lexus, which I had to do to go to my car. Instead of Starbucks, I was going to drive to the other end of the plaza to where they sold a coffee that I liked.

I stepped off the sidewalk, and assuredly walked towards the Lexus. My vehicle was in the same section. As I confidently took the two steps which got me past Fred’s car, without looking at it, I had the urge to turn to look behind me into the car.

There was Quiet Man, looking out of the window at me. I acted surprised to see him and turned towards the car again. He was smiling and rolled down the window and began to accumulate beautiful white snowflakes that gathered on his thick, black hair.

“Hi Quiet Man!” I said as I leaned into the car window.

“Muse!” said he, “Good to see you.”

I blathered on and on about stupid things in the span of about 1.5 minutes and then announce to him I was on my way to spot myself a well deserved cup of coffee.

“Get in,” he said to me.


“Get in. I drive you,” he told me, while looking at me in that way of his.

“OK!” I said as I darted around to the passenger side of the car.

I had to tap the window to remind him to open the door. I was getting covered in snow, and since I had such long hair, it would make one wet head mess.

Apparently Quiet Man likes long hair. I had mentioned to he and Fred I wanted to cut it, since I was growing it to donate and then I found out the donation center was throwing hair away. So I decided to keep it long, then decided to cut it and that was my see-saw thought process when I mentioned it to those two.

“Muse, you make big mistake if you cut hair,” advised Quiet Man.

This is from a man who told me when he met his wife, her hair was as long as mine. Now, her hair is thin and bottle blond. If it was my length, it would resemble the texture and thinness of something like Mary’s from Peter Paul and Mary. My hair was dark, thick, straight, curly and wavy all at the same time. It is voluminous to her thinning flatness. How he sees any remote comparison is only a testament to his fantastical stupidity. Really.

I scurry into the car and try to shake the snow from my locks.

“Wow, Quiet Man, it is really wide in here,” I noticed about the largess of the vehicle. He laughed.

We chatted some more and he drove me, very slowly for some reason, towards the coffee.

I asked him why did he bother to come to work when it the predicted snow storm started just on time.

“Why not?” was his answer. The snow was not going to stop a man like Quiet Man.

“You are not afraid of crashing because of the snow?” I asked him.

“No,” he responds. He then laughs at me.

“Well I am,” I told him as I was looking down at my ungloved hands.

He parks on the sidewalk in front of the entrance so I would not have to walk far.

We sat and chatted about driving in the snow. I dislike snow driving because most of the time I cannot erase from my mind fishtailing uncontrollably in snow or ice, or some idiot driver plowing into me, thrusting my vehicle into an accident.

Quiet Man thought I was over imagining the worst kind of doom.

He on the other hand, expertly informed me that most American drivers are most ridiculously afraid to drive in snow. In fact, we are inexpertly on the roads during a snow fall.

He on the other hand, having lived in Zurich, Switzerland that is, knows how to maneuver in foot deep snow, utilizing the likes of, oh, if it snows, like in Zurich, all you have to do is stop your car, which is probably only a rear wheel drive, slap on your tire chains and proceed on your way. Or, if you are without chains, then of course, you would improvise, by using a towel you would have on hand, holding it out your window, making your tire catch the bloody thing and make your way up the Alpine road.

Oh yes, Quiet Man, how utterly moronic of me to not have any Alpine driving experiences! And I dare go on American roadways in any event like the bimbo driver that I am.

“You used a TOWEL?” I blurted out in disbelief.

He looked at me while holding both hands on the steering wheel, in disbelief I doubted him.

“Yes,” he said emphatically.

“You did not!” I shouted, laughing.

“Why you say that Muse?”

“Oh, it sounds like such a lie,” I muttered looking at him sideways.

“No lie, Muse,” he said lowly, still looking at me with his turned head, and still gripping the wheel with both hands.

The wipers were going swish, swish.

“Hmmm. I cannot imagine it, really Quiet Man!”

He then explained how he would do it, if he was in the situation which required a towel. Whether it would really work is another story.

Not wanting this to turn into another marathon chat, being mindful of having to go back and see Fred, I thanked him for driving me, albeit across a parking lot, and walked behind the car into the store. He apparently thought I would cross in front of the car and wave goodbye to him, but he thought wrong.

Who wants any man staring at your backside, then having to turn around to wave goodbye, all while trying to act like he was not staring at your bottom?

Well, plenty of women would, but not I at that particular snowy moment. After all, I could not get run over by a car from behind if a driver with so much Alpine driving experience just happened to not have his towel handy.


Glamourpuss said...

I quite like men staring at my bottom, but then I'm slutty.

The snow sound lovely.


Gucci Muse said...

Puss, whether we all admit it ir not, we are all slutty, and the men in our lives prefer it that way, as they should. :)

The snow was very cool, soft and beautiful that day.

David said...

There is nothing wrong with an appreciating the female bottom.

ShadowFalcon said...

its true we are all sluty in our own way (just don't tell people!)

Gucci Muse said...

David-no, nothing wrong, but I have a thing about being stared at from behind. Why, I don't know.

Shadow-it is not any fun not being a bit slutty!

David said...

I think the not being looked at from behind is an old animal preservation sense still floating around of genetic code.

Gucci Muse said...

David-yes, it sort of feels that way.