Tabatha Deans

TELEVISION, PUBLIC TRANSIT, AND THE MERRY ENGLISHMEN
Since moving to Denver, and relying solely on the public transit system to get me around, I have furnished my entire studio apartment with items I have been able to carry home on the bus, in my backpack or lugging up the hill with my own two hands. My desk, kitchen table, futon and chair are the only exceptions, which my brother so kindly transported for me.
Pictures, pillows, an area rug and several lamps are among my belongings now, my personal best being the rug. It’s 5 by 7 feet long, and I would like to say that I got a few looks from people as I muscled it onto the bus, then threw it over my back for the rest of the walk home—but nobody even looked twice at the woman carrying a rug as big as she was up the street.
But I outdid myself last night. I scored an incredible deal on a 20 inch flat screen television, at my new favorite thrift store. It’s one of the older flat screens, probably about an inch thick, and weighs about 15 to 20 pounds. Even though I have still refused to purchase cable or a converter box to have access to “free” public programming, I watch a lot of movies and tv series I check out from the library. I’ve been watching them on a small older t.v., which is hard to see, partly because of my aging eyes, partly because all movies are now in wide screen, which cuts the picture almost in half. So I was excited to score the bigger t.v., and determined to get it home immediately.
I wrapped my treasure in a black garbage bag and taped it securely, then coaxed it into an oversized “LOFT” shopping bag with sturdy handles. Bundled in my winter clothes, and with my backpack on, the t.v. Seemed much heavier as I headed for the bus stop. I managed to get the two blocks to the bus stop before my shoulder and arm felt like they were going to fall off, and the bus driver didn’t even blink when I muscled the package up the stairs and into a seat. Nothing was said or noticed when I got off the bus and carried the bag up the stairs to the light rail, although one man did give up his seat to let me and my oversized package sit.
By the time I got off the train, as much as I hated to admit it to myself, lugging the t.v. The last seven blocks uphill to my apartment seemed like way too much work. So I hopped off at the Sheraton, with the intention of hailing a cab. A cab ride from there was only five dollars, and I rationalized that since the t.v. Was so cheap it would be worth it.
And then I met the merry Englishmen. They were standing on the sidewalk in front of the hotel lounge, and looking every bit the stereotypical Englishmen. Especially Danny. He was older, with gray hair, a well trimmed mustache and spectacles perched upon his nose. They noticed me and my package immediately, and offered assistance. They were in town for a conference, and were “pissed,” meaning drunk. I couldn’t resist their charming accents as they asked me to step inside for a beer. So I propped my television up against the base of the bar, shrugged my backpack off my shoulders, and spent the next hour trying to understand a single word they said through their heavy accents. Danny was quite the charmer, although the other two were obviously looking for a little conference fun of the naughty type.
I finally said good bye, gathered up my television from underneath the bar, and caught a cab the rest of the way home, where I spent the rest of the evening rearranging my little abode to accommodate my latest find…

November 3, 2011 - Posted by Tabatha Stewart | Uncategorized