My hobbies

As an amateur zoo train enthusiast, I’m always happy to share insights into my hobby. But sometimes I end up answering the same questions over and again. While I understand the recent explosive interest in amateur zoo train engineermanship, the newbies are kind of getting on my nerves. I mean, “Do zoo trains always run on tracks?” Come on, people! If it’s not on a track, it’s not a train. I know you’ve probably seen those gas-powered wheeled trains in two-bit parks like the old Expo ’74 site in Spokane. But those are for the losers who think it’s all about the striped cap. What the hell do they know? Nothing.

When I was at the Expo ’74 site at the end of April, I had the misfortune of catching the dirty, smelly tail-end of an Earth Day celebration. A celebration for the earth? As far as I’m concerned, Earth Day doesn’t need that kind of visibility. In the same way as when on Mother’s Day, a worn, unamused matron snaps to her whining child’s question, “Why isn’t there a kids’ day?”, “Because every day is kids’ day,” Earth Day doesn’t require a designated square on my desk calendar. It’s the earth. It gets every goddamned day it wants.

There was a sno-cone vendor at the venue, and though my teeth were already sore from the corndog I’d had for lunch, I decided a little something sweet was in order. A big mistake. Waiting in the sno-cone line, I got smacked in the back of the head by a big, vinyl “world globe” ball kicked by a hippie. You’d think that kicking an inflated replica of the globe would be against a hippie’s ethics, but apparently this kind of hypocrisy was lost on him.

You also might think that because it was earth day, initiating a physical altercation would in violation of the spirit of the occasion. But if anything, it was a necessary comment on his anti-earth behavior. I kicked that hippie’s ass. I kicked, and I kicked again. I boxed him until he bled from his ears. I dug my heel into his instep. And then I took his money and bought myself a blue raspberry sno-cone.