I was sitting in the TSC the other day on campus with my good friend Michelle. It was Scotsman Dog day. One of the best days of the week... even for a Monday. I should explain that all last semester at least once a week Michelle and I would meet for lunch... on Scotsman day. We were both aching for a Scotsman so we made plans to meet on Monday for lunch.
It was 11:30 ish on a Monday morning. Michelle and I had our Scotsman dogs in one hand and our Dr. Peppers in another, making our way to the Hub. It was crowded as we made our way down the corridor from the Quickstop to the Hub. Our usual choice for seating was crowded; all the booths were occupied by a single person. What single person needs a whole booth to themselves? We walked around, our scotsmans in hand, looking for a respectable place to sit and eat. Finally we settled on a semi-large table near the tiled sidewalk thingy near a clock that was an hour off.
We sat, eating our delectible Scotsman talking of boys, books, and everything else- the topics I love most. We had been there for some time when... the most unworldly noise happened upon our ears... The sound of a wheeled garbage can being lead over uneven tiles. The sound deafened us. I glared at the offending party. Michelle and I were in the middle of a most important discussion. About what, I have no recollection but it was important.
The noise died away and we continued on with our conversation. Shortly afterward... the noise was upon us again as the offending garbage can passed us on its way back to the dumpsters. Another dirty look and we went on.
To wrap up the story... the noisy instrument of torture passed several times and each time either Michelle or I were in the middle of speaking. The garbage can got a dirty and annoyed look every time in passing. Just a note... we're never sitting at that table again. It was far too annoying. Michelle's right... as English majors we are arrogant. Stupid garbage can!