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Misc.

Sometimes a Banana Guard is Just a Banana Guard…

In reference to the Banana Guard, which I mentioned recently, Andi G. sends this amusing missive from Washington, DC:

The Banana Guard proves yet again that necessity is indeed the mother of invention. As much as I think I need one of these puppies–my bananas are always getting bruised and mangled–I have to say I wouldn’t be caught dead with one of those in public. I can see it now…

Picture the scene: crowded bus. Crazy Metrobus driver who comes to halting stops every two feet. Andi (as always) clumsily stumbles in the aisle, possibly stepping on a foot or two or knocking seated passengers in the head with one of her many bags. Her heavy, overloaded-with-magazines, overflowing-with-plastic-containers work bag falls. Out spills brightly colored phallic, freaky-parlor-sex-toy-looking thing. It clatters all the way down the aisle of the bus, everyone’s eyes following it until bounces off the fare machine, stops, shines in the sun for a moment and, with a click, snaps open.

Silence. Many heads nod. People peek out from behind their New York Times and Washington Post only to quickly duck back behind embarrassingly. Some coughs, some chuckles, some throat-clearing.

And then, Andi walks all the way up to the front of the bus, picks it up, hangs burning red hot face in unnecessary shame, and gets off the bus (it’s not even her stop!), never to ride the S2 (or S4) ever again.

I think I’ll stick to the Octodog.

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