La versión en español está después de la versión en inglés.
THIS CONNECTION IS A STRETCH. When I went out this morning, I crossed the street and immediately came upon a perfect example of that interesting fashion, shorts with one leg shorter than the other. I managed to get a shot from the front and one from the back. The guy was adjusting his hood or sunglasses, or something. From the back, it looked (to me) like he had removed his head.
That made me think of the Headless Horseman, the murderer of Washington Irving’s “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.” And that made me consider instead the Headless Shortsman. I didn’t know quite how to translate that into Spanish so it would make any sense (well, at least as little sense as it makes in English), so I moved on to Ichabod Crane, the New York detective in the story. And there you have it, a look at the inner workings of my mind. Sorry.
A moment later, another guy approached. Similar style. Maybe Tuesday is Short Leg Day in Los Boliches.
I’m sitting in the hospital cafeteria while San Geraldo has cataract surgery on the other eye (the first was a month ago). We had an adventure trying to get here. The gate to our parking lot wouldn’t open. Not a common occurrence but it happens more than it should. San Geraldo said the gate was wide open when he returned from shopping yesterday. I couldn’t find the portero and the number I had for him didn’t work. I found a new emergency number in a wall cabinet next to his door. I phoned. He was having lunch but told me to pull a little piece of black plastic from the edge of the case to open the glass door. I thought it was a makeshift key. It didn’t work. While I talked to Pepe, SG kept saying he would take a cab and I should meet him at the hospital after his surgery. I got more anxious because I didn’t want him to take a cab. When I realized the black plastic was simply a means of pulling the glass door (unlocked) open, I used it correctly. SG left. I grabbed the key, dropped it on the floor, hit my head on the door as I stood up, ran out and down the street to catch SG, and saw a taxi pull away. I ran back, opened the gate, returned the key to its hook, and exited (leaving the gate open behind me). I drove to the hospital and arrived while he was checking in. At least he knows I’m here. So I’m having a piece of orange cake and an iced cafe con leche.
What I can’t figure out is how I scraped my ankle. It’s not pretty. Take a look at everything else you missed today.
ESTA CONEXIÓN ES UN TRAMO. Cuando salí esta mañana, cruzé la calle e inmediatamente llegué a un ejemplo perfecto de esa moda interesante, pantalones cortos con una pierna más corta que la otra. Me las arreglé para recibir un tiro desde el frente y uno de la espalda. El chico estaba ajustando su capucha o gafas de sol, o algo así. Desde la espalda, se veía (a mí) como si se había quitado la cabeza.
Eso me hizo pensar en el jinete sin cabeza, el asesino de “Le Leyenda de Sleepy Hollow” de Washington Irving. Y eso me hizo considerar en su lugar “el shortsman” (hombre en pantalones cortos) sin cabeza. Pero eso no rima en español y, por lo tanto, hace menos sentido que ello, así que pensé en Ichabod Crane, el Detective de Nueva York en la historia. Y ahí lo tienes, mira el funcionamiento interno de mi mente. Perdón.
Un momento después, se acercó a otro tipo. Estilo similar. Tal vez el martes es un día corto de pierna.
Estoy sentada en la cafetería del hospital mientras San Geraldo tiene una operación de cataratas en el otro ojo (la primera fue hace un mes). Tuvimos una aventura tratando de llegar aquí. La puerta de nuestro estacionamiento no se abría. No es una ocurrencia común, pero sucede más de lo que debería. San Geraldo dijo que la puerta estaba abierta de par en par cuando regresó de hacer las compras ayer. No pude encontrar el portero y el número que tenía para él no funcionó. Encontré un nuevo número de emergencia en un armario de pared junto a su puerta. Yo llame. Estaba almorzando, pero me dijo que sacara un pedacito de plástico negro del borde de la caja para abrir la puerta de vidrio. Pensé que era una llave improvisada. No funcionó. Mientras hablaba con Pepe, SG seguía diciendo que tomaría un taxi y que debería encontrarme con él en el hospital después de su cirugía. Me puse más ansioso porque no quería que tomara él un taxi. Cuando me di cuenta de que el plástico negro era simplemente un medio para abrir la puerta de vidrio (desbloqueada), lo usé correctamente. SG se fue. Agarré la llave, la dejé caer al suelo, me golpeé la cabeza con la puerta mientras me levantaba, salí corriendo para coger a SG y vi que un taxi se alejaba. Corrí hacia atrás, abrí la puerta, devolví la llave a su gancho y salí (dejando la puerta abierta detrás de mí). Conduje hasta el hospital y llegué mientras él se estaba registrando. Al menos él sabe que estoy aquí. Así que voy a comer un bizcocho de naranja y un café con leche helado.
Lo que no puedo entender es cómo me raspé el tobillo. No es lindo. Echa un vistazo a todo lo demás que te perdiste hoy.
24 thoughts on “Ichabod Crane”
Some days are like that, aren’t they? Hope yours improved, and that SG’s surgery was fabulously successful. The one-short-leg fashion hasn’t made it here, and I’m OK with that.
Thanks. Surgery went perfectly. Back this evening to check in, but he’s doing great. I would be disappointed if I stopped seeing the shorts and shorter look. It entertains me.
I like the way you think, Scoot. Yeah, the dude does look headless, but I got distracted by his thighs, naturally 🙂
We need to put you in some kind of armor, sweetie. You can sit still and still manage to get cuts and contusions! Sending you both hugs. I hope I don’t bruise your ribs. Give SG my well wishes.
Sore spot on my head today. Ankle is fine (I still have no clue). And SG is doing great. I’m about to head downstairs to run some errands. Wish me luck. It’s a dangerous world.
Walk the errands, Scoot. It’s safer, unless you find yourself in front of a speeding bus, bicycle, scooter, train or a snail leaving a slippery trail behind him.
No worries. Unless I’m running on the beach, running is NOT going to happen. No new injuries!
Oh, I thought we’d get a photo of your scraped ankle! Speedy healing to you and SG!
I tried for a photo, but it was a bit of a waste. Anyway, it’s hardly noticeable today. SG is doing really well.
I am eating lunch…that last photo almost did me in.
Sorry about the anxiety this morning…nothing worse than feeling trapped. Ugh. Hope all went well with SG’s surgery.
That first guy needs to see a doctor about that black patch on the back of his knee. Would be very worried about possible melanoma.
Yeah, I didn’t find that lost photo very appealing either. Doesn’t he feel the breeze on his ass?!? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a tattoo alone in that location behind a knee. Must have hurt, too!
Oy, such an adventure you two had. Glad you made it in time.
That guy REALLY hiked up the one leg, and then, another episode of Butt Crack Theater.
That first guy has to be the best example of shorts and shorter I’ve seen. I probably should have thanked him.
That’s a lot of drama to get out of a parking garage! I think I could have done without that last shot. On some guys it works, but not on him. LOL
I’ve seen some very sexy butt cracks exposured, and many not, but this guy was a disappointment. Of course, someone else might like it, so I shouldn’t judge. Had a lawyer appointment this morning. Needed to get the portero to let us out. Don’t get me started.
Now you know “The Secret of The Gate”. I hope the portero doesn’t have to kill you, although you have already made a start. You made a good story of a situation that would have made me very anxious headless chicken.
The portero is full of… secrets. He’d make life much easier if he’d simply share this kind of info before-hand. He’s just counting the days until he retires. Unfortunately, he’s probably got 2,000 days.
You were probably high on adrenalin at the time you hit your ankle and didn’t feel a thing.
Yes, why is it these things ALWAYS appear to happen when we are in a hurry.
Hope SG’s surgery went well.
And your head/ankle heal quickly.
Adrenaline definitely. I was in the car and thought, why does my ankle burn? Can hardly notice the ankle now. I have a new hole in my head (like I needed it). SG is doing well.
I’ll never understand this “fashion” of the shorts legs. I say, “Buy shorter shorts! Wear a Speedo!” But I guess that’s not the point. Wouldn’t want to look too gay out there. Of course, no self-respecting gay man would wear his shorts like that, so maybe this is a way to broadcast that one is not gay. Just looking for a little extra sun. Which, in turn, makes me wonder, do they switch which leg is short during the day to get an even exposure?
Walt the Fourth:
I keep thinking I’m going to find someone approachable I can ask about the shorts. And, yes, when both legs are shoved up, I do think they should just buy shorter shorts. It would be a gay thing in the States. I think here it’s just a “cool” thing. You know, because shoving your shorts up so it looks like you’re wearing a diaper is SO cool. I also had the sun theory. But the first guy had the wrong leg tucked in. The second guy walked in both directions with the same leg tucked in. I don’t know; nobody knows.
Oh my, you could start dressing like an american football player. The real problem is mens athletic shorts that hang down to the knee and get in the way of nice tan lines. What that town really needs is someone to make and sell short shorts for men you look great wearing them. The world would be a much prettier place.
There are plenty of men in short shorts AND Speedos. Young and old. I can’t understand it.
Laughing at your post made my day today!
I’m so glad. I was laughing at the absurdity of it as I wrote. A tall gin would have helped even more.