In praise of Scott N.
This morning, I woke up feeling tired. The night before, I had been out late enjoying a co-worker’s going-away party. One of the attendees was Scott N.
I have always liked Scott, which is odd, because he is a mean, ornery, unpleasant, bitter, nasty human being. Yet he is funny. The reason I like him goes back to my childhood.
In both appearance and temperament, Scott bears a close resemblance to my childhood idol, Oscar the Grouch. No one else on Sesame Street captured my attention like Oscar. Big Bird seemed so artificially happy, but Oscar, he knew his place in the world.
So too does Scott.
Physical fitness is not his top priority. His body is a 1974 Ford Country Squire Station wagon that ferries his acerbic wit to its next destination.
Scott is most proud of his favorite possession, a John Deere Lawn mower, sit down style. It is big and green and powerful and has cup holders for when Scott mows his estate in western Massachusetts.
As a tribute to Scott, I once made a play list of songs that were especially violent. I named the list “Crushing Scott” and only use it for special interval workouts indoors.
After a warm up, you hit play in the i-Pod, blast your ear drums, and ride until you believe you are going pass out or throw up, whichever comes first.
During the intervals, it is good to imagine Scott riding next to you on a special bicycle that is rigged to give him a mild electrical charge if he can’t keep up. You let him hang with you for awhile, and then let him have it on the hills. He's always surprised when the electric shock is delivered through his seat.
It is this inspiration that gets me out of bed and onto the bike to ride to work on a day when the wind is blowing out of the southeast at 20 miles per hour and the rain is pelting the earth.
After two minutes outside, I am soaked to the bone. The three jackets, shirt, bootie, gloves, hat and other gear don’t stop the rain from covering my person. Braking distances are lengthened by the water that is everywhere, so I pay attention and attempt to ride as safely as possible.
An 18-wheeler blows by me honking its horn in disapproval of my very existence.
90 minutes after the start of the ride, I arrive at the John Hancock tower, soaked, chilled, invigorated. I bump into Scott who is eating a piece of coffee cake loaf and sipping a cup of coffee.
I tell him that on this day, he is my inspiration.
He has no idea of what I speak.
I have always liked Scott, which is odd, because he is a mean, ornery, unpleasant, bitter, nasty human being. Yet he is funny. The reason I like him goes back to my childhood.
In both appearance and temperament, Scott bears a close resemblance to my childhood idol, Oscar the Grouch. No one else on Sesame Street captured my attention like Oscar. Big Bird seemed so artificially happy, but Oscar, he knew his place in the world.
So too does Scott.
Physical fitness is not his top priority. His body is a 1974 Ford Country Squire Station wagon that ferries his acerbic wit to its next destination.
Scott is most proud of his favorite possession, a John Deere Lawn mower, sit down style. It is big and green and powerful and has cup holders for when Scott mows his estate in western Massachusetts.
As a tribute to Scott, I once made a play list of songs that were especially violent. I named the list “Crushing Scott” and only use it for special interval workouts indoors.
After a warm up, you hit play in the i-Pod, blast your ear drums, and ride until you believe you are going pass out or throw up, whichever comes first.
During the intervals, it is good to imagine Scott riding next to you on a special bicycle that is rigged to give him a mild electrical charge if he can’t keep up. You let him hang with you for awhile, and then let him have it on the hills. He's always surprised when the electric shock is delivered through his seat.
It is this inspiration that gets me out of bed and onto the bike to ride to work on a day when the wind is blowing out of the southeast at 20 miles per hour and the rain is pelting the earth.
After two minutes outside, I am soaked to the bone. The three jackets, shirt, bootie, gloves, hat and other gear don’t stop the rain from covering my person. Braking distances are lengthened by the water that is everywhere, so I pay attention and attempt to ride as safely as possible.
An 18-wheeler blows by me honking its horn in disapproval of my very existence.
90 minutes after the start of the ride, I arrive at the John Hancock tower, soaked, chilled, invigorated. I bump into Scott who is eating a piece of coffee cake loaf and sipping a cup of coffee.
I tell him that on this day, he is my inspiration.
He has no idea of what I speak.
posted by joe berkeley at 7:45 AM
1 Comments:
This Scott reminds me of my big, fat, slothful, no-good, slouch of a husband. You are lucky to have such a friend around! Perhaps you could brighten his day up giving him a little hug or something along the feel-good lines
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