Summer Postcards 2013
Test Tube Half Empty
The package, mailed from the corporate headquarters of the company I’d be interning for, arrived at 11 a.m. on the Saturday prior to my Monday start date. At first, I was annoyed that my mother had woken me up (on the grounds that there exist implicit “do not resuscitate” orders for kids who’ve just returned from college). But then I was grateful: the paperwork enclosed in the package said I had to complete the drug test within 48 hours.
Tear Gas and Coffee
I was chatting with the barista at the coffee shop outside my office in Medellin, Colombia as I watched him make my coffee—about his plans for college, the tattoo on his knuckle, about the peculiar version of paisa Spanish spoken in the city. My friends waited outside as the sun, a constant presence in the “city of eternal spring,” beat down on the people walking on the sidewalk. Cars honked as traffic snarled.
The Indian in Old Town Square
At least the didgeridoo player’s didgeridoo looks authentic, and the mimes in period dress seem to have gone to some lengths over the trimmings of their costume. The Indian (I call him this for he cannot be a Native American in any real sense of the name), in his crude get-up and total lack of musical authenticity is terribly out of place. If he weren’t so pathetic he would certainly by quite offensive. I could only imagine how disgusting his silly act would appear to someone of actual Native American heritage.
