That is not a common sight up here. Up here, everyone wears sweatshirts and, I imagine, t-shirts, although a t-shirt would be invisible to me as it is necessary to wear at least three layers, even when you are indoors, with a "W" on them.
Well, not everyone. Not me. Don't care. I live here and don't begrudge anyone their loyalties, but I did not go to school here and don't care how the teams do. I do care about the academic reputations of the schools here because it affects my property value, but other than that, whatever.
Anyhow. I was walking back with my coffee and listening to a podcast. It's a good three-minute walk to the coffee place and if I have to go alone, then I don't want the walking time to be wasted, so I listen to the podcast I have downloaded for the gym.
But I don't want to hold the mp3 player in one hand and the coffee in the other because then how do I open the doors?
So I stick the mp3 player in my bra. It makes a little bulge, but not many folks look at my bosom anyhow and do I care? No. I am already married. Not in the market. I want to look good, but I don't have to look that good. SH and I have gotten very sloppy around each other. We need to get better about that. Actually, I do need to look good at work - I need to impress anyone else who might want to hire me.
I digress. I am carrying my coffee and listening to this podcast in which they are talking about the blood moon that happened last night and I see an older man wearing a burnt-orange jacket that says "TEXAS" on it.
I stop. Smile. Ask, "Hey! Are you a Texan?"
He starts to answer. I can't hear him because I am listening to a podcast. I need to turn it off.
I fumble with my mp3 player. Which is in my bra. I am reaching through the opening of my V-neck sweater into my bra in front of a total stranger.
His eyes widen.
I look up. See his eyes. He looks wary.
I laugh. "I'm not trying to flash you! I am getting my mp3 player out."
Because every woman keeps an mp3 player in her bosom. I reach the player. Pull it out. Turn it off.
He explains that he was going to go to Texas but then got married instead. "But my kids went there," he said.
"I went there for grad school," I explained. I hook 'em.
"That's what I was going to do!"
"I never see anyone with Texas stuff here!" I tell him. "You made my day!" I smile.
He hugs me.
He nods toward my mp3 player, now dangling from my non-coffee hand. "And I thought you were going to make mine," he laughs.