jozjozjoz.com :: brain barf

The Redcoats are coming!

Today, I got on a bus (!) and then hopped on the Metro toward Union Station.

Somewhere along the way, a swarm of folks wearing bright red jackets/coats got on. They were obviously a part of some convention & upon further investigation, I realized they were all postmasters (or retired postmasters) from all over the nation. Sweet as these hard-working folks may be, I believe it must be somewhere in the postal code that in order to be a postmaster, you absolutely must have an ugly haircut. If they hadn't had their name tags and postal service pins on, the array of bowl cuts, mullets, and cuts-so-fugly-they-don't-even-have-names would have led me to believe they were in town for the "Whoa Nelly! I've Got an Ugly Haircut" competition.

Then to my dismay, they started to follow me. When I stood up to get off the Metro, they all did the same. I swear, they followed me out to Union Station, stood in the same line as me for food, and when I finally thought I lost them, I plopped down in front of one of the fountains outside the station to eat (and to enjoy the beautifully, gorgeous weather). But then, all at once, the Redcoats started spilling out of the front doors of Union Station, like red ants evacuating their hill.

They started toward me and my palms began to sweat. I began to worry that I had accidentally made some comment about the hair out loud, instead of thinking it in my head, as I'd intended. Suddenly, they all turned and crossed the street in the other direction.

I should have figured. The National Postal Museum is across the street from Union Station.