A line cast, a hope followedThursday, April 20, 2006
A trio of typecasts... Not
I am waiting for someone to join me at Fred Meyer (our local version of a superstore) when a white Dodge Caravan, late model, drives down the parking lot aisle searching for a spot. The driver is probably 40ish, Caucasian, blond, and has all the markings of a "soccer mom" (stickers on her review mirrors to boot) except this: As she drives by me, through closed windows comes the roar of Hindi film music played at what has to be a deafening volume.
A week later, again in a parking lot, but now in the trendy California community of Hermosa Beach, a late model half-ton pickup goes by us driven by a young man in his early to mid 20s, all the markings of a surfer but.... coming from his stereo, loud bagpipe music. I wait, expecting it to be a sample but no.
Finally, dinner at our favorite neighborhood Chinese restaurant, where of course they usually play Chinese music. Except last night. When they had on the B-52s.
I am waiting for someone to join me at Fred Meyer (our local version of a superstore) when a white Dodge Caravan, late model, drives down the parking lot aisle searching for a spot. The driver is probably 40ish, Caucasian, blond, and has all the markings of a "soccer mom" (stickers on her review mirrors to boot) except this: As she drives by me, through closed windows comes the roar of Hindi film music played at what has to be a deafening volume.
A week later, again in a parking lot, but now in the trendy California community of Hermosa Beach, a late model half-ton pickup goes by us driven by a young man in his early to mid 20s, all the markings of a surfer but.... coming from his stereo, loud bagpipe music. I wait, expecting it to be a sample but no.
Finally, dinner at our favorite neighborhood Chinese restaurant, where of course they usually play Chinese music. Except last night. When they had on the B-52s.
