In the library, as usual. An androgynous freshman dude walks into the "Internet cafe" (scores of PCs on tables, backless chrome-rimmed stools, and self-serve Starbucks in an adjacent room) wearing a CBGB t-shirt. I'm listening to Marquee Moon on my Rio. The dissonance... too perfect. I'll bet you 50 million dollars he doesn't know who TV are... Hold on, I'm gonna ask.
You people better dig out your shovels, 'cuz I'm owed serious clammage. He knew squat.
No big deal, but I had to race my Yugo through the jarring intersection... I'm old, he's probably an evangelical, shit changes, and the scales never fall away.