Our 5-speed Volvo will be in the shop starting tomorrow, so Cris and I had to rent an car for the week. We went down to SFO, which was more convenient than getting a car downtown, for example. While we were in the car rental facility -- which is essentially a multistory parking garage -- trying to put the seats and the mirrors at the correct angle, two young men walked by. Presumably they were National Guardsmen, as they were wearing desert camoflage and carrying automatic weapons. They walked by not casually as they sometimes do in the airport terminal, but carefully, with their weapons at the ready, as if they were actually on patrol rather than thinking about their next coffee break.
Meanwhile we were wrestling with the various aspects of the little compact we had rented -- the head restraints seemed designed for giant lizards -- cursing and heaving and grunting as if we were fighting the car or fucking it. And these young men crept by with automatic weapons. Such is our world now.
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