graduations
Jun. 6th, 2011 07:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
calimacJon Carroll muses about graduations and limousines.
Though I don't know anyone who's graduating this year, I had a close encounter of the third, or possibly the fourth, kind with a high school graduation a couple days ago as I fought my way through a seething mob of graduates and relatives who were exiting from the theater where I was to attend a concert that was starting alarmingly soon. (More on this concert anon.)
On the way through this I saw a female graduate posing for photos while holding a small child in her arms. Judging from the more obviously maternal figure hovering nearby who then took the child, the child was the graduate's niece. It reminded me of B's story of being with her own then-small niece at her own high school graduation. Said niece is now a successful businesswoman, married with children of her own (I won't say what milestone birthday she just passed, in the hopes of sparing what remains of our sensibilities), so it was possible to have warm feelings about this replay in a later generation while being squashed and shoved this way and that by the crowd.
There was a limo or some such vehicle there, and on its window was written, in whatever medium is used for writing delibly on car windows, an exclamation directed at the graduates in general: "You rock!" I've seen and heard this remark before, of course, but it now occurs to me to mention that I'm enough of an old fogy that I have no idea what the expression means. It's obviously a compliment of some sort, but exactly what form of virtue it's intended to express appreciation of escapes me.
There were probably no limos after my high school graduation, though I don't recall for sure. I attended the ceremony and then went straight home. I didn't attend the "grad night" as it was called and which was held in the high school cafeteria anyway, a depressing venue at the best of times. I had by choice attended not a single prom or dance or any such event in my entire high school career and had no intention of starting now.
I have, however, once ridden in a limo. By accident. It was when B. and I were in Honolulu. We were staying in a fairly nice hotel in Waikiki and wished to go out to dinner. We were headed for a particular Chinese restaurant which my late friend Seth had always insisted was the best Chinese restaurant east of China. We walked to the hotel's taxi rank. At the head of the rank was a limo. It was evidently designated for the fancy-dressed honeymooning couple and their party who were vaguely milling around over there. But they weren't ready to go yet for some reason. The rule of the taxi rank is, first customer, first cab. We tried to decline and take the next, ordinary cab, but the dispatcher was insistent: first customer, first cab. We were hungry and it wasn't clear when the other party would get organized, so off in the limo we went, to what was amusingly a rather run-down neighborhood. The limo had low seats and was less comfortable than a regular cab. The restaurant was excellent.
Though I don't know anyone who's graduating this year, I had a close encounter of the third, or possibly the fourth, kind with a high school graduation a couple days ago as I fought my way through a seething mob of graduates and relatives who were exiting from the theater where I was to attend a concert that was starting alarmingly soon. (More on this concert anon.)
On the way through this I saw a female graduate posing for photos while holding a small child in her arms. Judging from the more obviously maternal figure hovering nearby who then took the child, the child was the graduate's niece. It reminded me of B's story of being with her own then-small niece at her own high school graduation. Said niece is now a successful businesswoman, married with children of her own (I won't say what milestone birthday she just passed, in the hopes of sparing what remains of our sensibilities), so it was possible to have warm feelings about this replay in a later generation while being squashed and shoved this way and that by the crowd.
There was a limo or some such vehicle there, and on its window was written, in whatever medium is used for writing delibly on car windows, an exclamation directed at the graduates in general: "You rock!" I've seen and heard this remark before, of course, but it now occurs to me to mention that I'm enough of an old fogy that I have no idea what the expression means. It's obviously a compliment of some sort, but exactly what form of virtue it's intended to express appreciation of escapes me.
There were probably no limos after my high school graduation, though I don't recall for sure. I attended the ceremony and then went straight home. I didn't attend the "grad night" as it was called and which was held in the high school cafeteria anyway, a depressing venue at the best of times. I had by choice attended not a single prom or dance or any such event in my entire high school career and had no intention of starting now.
I have, however, once ridden in a limo. By accident. It was when B. and I were in Honolulu. We were staying in a fairly nice hotel in Waikiki and wished to go out to dinner. We were headed for a particular Chinese restaurant which my late friend Seth had always insisted was the best Chinese restaurant east of China. We walked to the hotel's taxi rank. At the head of the rank was a limo. It was evidently designated for the fancy-dressed honeymooning couple and their party who were vaguely milling around over there. But they weren't ready to go yet for some reason. The rule of the taxi rank is, first customer, first cab. We tried to decline and take the next, ordinary cab, but the dispatcher was insistent: first customer, first cab. We were hungry and it wasn't clear when the other party would get organized, so off in the limo we went, to what was amusingly a rather run-down neighborhood. The limo had low seats and was less comfortable than a regular cab. The restaurant was excellent.
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