Good Morning Men of Athens
By Abby Shaffer
4 Nov 2008
It was a particularly nice day outside, cloudy, wet, cold, typical Maryland fall; well that was kind of an understatement. Philly sat against the wind gingerly tying to avoid the enviable clash of skin on the metal grating. He dropped his bag irreverently on the ground and lay his book (Plato's dialogues) down in the sloppy wet mess that consumed the table top.
The fish in the pond were dead; perhaps it was murder, how horrible. He watched the book on the table soak up water, and couldn't help but wonder, who was more absorbent Homer or Plato? He considered why he even had the book at all, who was he fooling? It did serve at creating some shoddy feeling that he was indeed accomplishing something by being here, however true or not.
No one was outside, it was still too chilly, too wet, he admired it really. The book was becoming increasingly saturated. He wrestled in his pocket for a cigarette, damn empty.
Down on the ground someone had drawn a big neon green peace sign, with "Action" written below it in an equally annoying pink. It was amazing the near semi-permanence you could get out of chalk laced with water and sugar. He supposed the drawing had been left by some wayward hippie, there was suppose to be a rally here today but it had been post-poned due to rain or some nonsense, Ha that's dedication to your cause, well what more could you expect? These are the same people who are "fighting for peace" which for some reason had always seemed like a bit of an oxymoron anyway.
He followed the bright colors to where they reflected in the window, it was an interesting segway to the eager looking guy speaking to a couple of marines just behind the glass. Juxtaposition as it were, wouldn't your English teacher be proud? He had to laugh to himself. Someone tapped him on the shoulder.
Mr. Crito: s'cuse me son you would'n happen to have a light?
Philly: That depends, got a smoke I could get?
It was one of the janitors, an old black man with snow white hair and gray eyes. He sat down across the table and pulled a pack of cigarettes from the front pocket of dusty overalls. He handed one over.
Philly: (Lights the cigarette and hands the box back) Thanks man.
Mr. Crito:(Takes the lighter) Likewise.
Philly was kind of frustrated at the old man for having so quickly ended the brief interlude of peace to encourage such a self destructive habit; but, he was happy to have a cigarette all the same.
Mr. Crito: (looking down at the table) Plato eh'? Well I guess is true the unexamined life idn't really a life.
He stared at the old man dumbly.
Mr. Crito: It's out a yer book; well I'm a guess sponge, at this point?
Philly: What? (Looking down at the book) Oh yeah Socrates right... You've read it?
Why did he assume the old guy'd never read it? Was it because he was a Janitor? Oh yeah, that's not being judgmental.
Mr. Crito: Yep, I've read it, never too much cared for it though. Plato's always to wordy for me never seemed too relevant I guess. Ha, yep didn't go to school officially, but, I've been working here for 35 years think I've taken every class about three times b'now.
The Janitor laughed rather darkly at himself. Philly didn't know how to respond so they again sat in silence. His gaze once again turned to the window he watched the soldiers now sitting at a table with the eager looking guy, the Janitors eyes followed.
Mr. Crito: It's weird I been watchin' guys like 'im signin away dir lives for years, I'm glad they got the courage ta do it, but man, I don't know how they do.
Philly: Did you ever serve?
Mr. Crito: Nah, I could a got drafted back in Vietnam, and I'm damned lucky my name never got drawn inta that mess. I'm not gonna lie, I'd a probably run.
The Janitor smiled to himself.
Philly: So were you anti-war?
Why would he answer that?
Mr. Crito: Ha I wasn't anti-war, I was just anti-dying hell I was nineteen at the time. Now you, your generation you just seem to be accepting this whole mess we're in taday, we rose up man, civil disobedience, protest, an all 'at jazz, these young ones, they ain't got noten on that.
Philly: That's because the dumb ass protesters out there now don't know what they want, they're carbon copies of their parents but don't really even understand why their fighting. They're just doing it to do it and what's that accomplish? Nothing.
Mr. Crito: Here's ta dat my friend. (Raising an invisible glass to the cause)
Philly: I blame technology, it's like when everybody got connected we became totally disconnected. People? People don't know how to function in groups, there's no feeling or emotion in anything, jeez we don't even listen to music anymore we consume it.
Way to get worked up over nothing.
Mr. Crito: Ha, I agree completely. Nobody reads either.
Philly almost felt kind of guilty looking down at the saturated book on the table.
Mr. Crito: So here's the question 'en, what a you stand for? What ayou believe in? What's your cause?
Philly: I don't have a cause.
The janitor shook his head.
Mr. Crito: And there-in lies the whole problem, my friend.
A police officer walked up to the table resting a hand on Philly's shoulder.
Officer: Excuse me, we've received several complaints, you're going to have to move thirty feet away from the building to smoke, campus policy.
Philly instinctually looked up at the building seeing a couple of feminist types glaring down at them through the window. Way to call the bacon in girls...
Philly: Yeah I'm sure it was our smoking that was bothering them.
The cop tightened his grip.
Officer: (Through his teeth) You can either move or we can escort you from the premises.
Philly: No, no we'll move.
He put out his cigarette and the cop walked away. He looked back up to the window but the femanist were gone, he assumed to resume their general cackling and the stirring of their giant pot.
Mr. Crito: Well I 'shed probably get back da work.
Philly: Yeah I got class. (Not really)
He watched the old man walk away before sitting back down at the table. It really was ashamed about those fish...
1 response
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Robin Smith gave props (7 Nov 2008):
very cool
