Headphones
’cause it ain’t all on your head . . .
A lovely Saturday morning. I had things to do, time to do them, and nothing of any urgency. That’s one of the many perks of retirement — no need to rush.
It was a holiday weekend and I wanted to prepare myself for the racket I knew was coming in my neighborhood. Fireworks (illegal, but what the hell, right?) and neighbors blaring their cars’ bass until the speakers burn out.
I went to Best Buy, a place I normally avoid because Amazon.com offers nearly everything cheaper, but I didn’t want to wait because of the holiday mail schedule.
A young man at the front of the store asked what I was looking for.
“Headphones,” I said.
He nodded. “Straight ahead, down that aisle.” He said it as if I was being allowed into the presence of royalty. Or maybe a drug lord. Would someone show up to frisk me?
I walked down the indicated aisle and slowed to look at the wireless phones spread out on the displays. A young woman, beaming with energy as only 20-year-olds can, bounced up to me, full of confidence and certainty.
“You lookin’ for some headphones?”
I had only moved a few yards from the man at the front; how had they signaled one another that quickly?
