Mark Wallace's Home Page, Saint Louis University, Piqua, Ohio, Lehman High School
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-9.3.98-

I've had a recurring dream lately:
There's a little elephant in a tutu being whipped by its trainer until it plods onto the barrel and baby steps its way into the spot light.

Whether I'm the barrel, the elephant, the trainer or the spotlight I don't know.
Who I am or why I fit into any of the roles in that vision have sped past me now but I just wondered where I might fall. I acknowledge it's going to differ for anyone who might read this depending on where you orbit. But I won't be the tutu for anyone! That's a promise.
By the time you read this I will most likely already have been back to St. Lou. I will have touched base, dodged the tag and pulled a hammy trying to get my egg ass back up to speed. I miss you.

For those that like a visual (as opposed to a legible) try to picture this. This evening I took a break from our team project to scoot to the local laundromat to make sure I had a reasonably presentable shirt to wear to our first client meeting tomorrow. It's Florida. It was outside and not so tidy. I throw my wash in next to 5 young males who are staring at me and eyeing my rental. I chalked it up to my wearing a shirt and shoes and did my best to only catch them looking me up and down once or twice a minute.
They (honestly, it might have lasted 45 seconds) returned to doing their laundry and I sat in the running car until my stuff was ready for the dryer. As I started my transfer, the four young men and their older friend finished their folding and left in a chevette filled with each of their laundry baskets.
20 minutes later, I'm taking my stuff out of the machine and up pulls the chevette minus the old guy. They all exit and start walking up and down the rows of machines very slowly. One comes over and looks at me, then walks back towards the others. I'm far from getting my stuff jammed back into the plastic bag and just beginning to feel sweat trickle down my sides, when they were having their sugar huddle to decide attack plan. They broke and covered the 15 feet between us quickly. The point man and the biggest (5'7", buck fifty) was the first to speak. "Hey man, have you seen my wallet?" I noticed the left guy step just barely towards my peripheral. Ingeniously, I offered that I hadn't, but that I knew the one I had was mine. Just then, the guy on the right lunges towards me and I jumped back and looked to swing first. He was startled by my quickness but quickly finished his initial move which was an extended index finger pointing towards his friend's wallet which was sitting on the machine a couple of feet behind me.

The kid who had "attacked" me, patted my arm as he walked over to pick up the wallet as if to say, "Man, you got some troubles, but don't worry because God is with you." They walked away looking in their wallet to make sure no shadies (most assuredly me) had not pilfered their dollars. They were trying not to hurt my feelings but I could tell that two of them were having trouble catching their breath due to the laughter that was making walking difficult.
I stood there for a moment stunned. I was now sweating profusely as I tried to recalculate the last 30 minute's events. I shook my head alot and tried to giggle. I finished the folding while my heart was trying to regulate itself.
I returned to Dodgertown where my group was working on different modules of our project.
I have been working until now. (2am) Everyone is gone. I plan on going back, alone, to my room and passing out. Of course I'm going to do my best not to get 'rolled' on the way there.
I hope to see you all soon.
Don't forget, I won't be the tutu and I'm incapable of being the whip.


Email: wallacemt@hotmail.com

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