Band Aid

So since I got whacked in the face while playing in the YMCA pool with Handsome yesterday, I am currently wearing a band aid on the bridge of my nose. If you saw yesterday’s blog, you saw this picture:

I’m wearing the same band aid as in the photo. I slapped some antibiotic ointment on it, covered it up, and left it alone. I’ll pull the cover off this evening after work and take a look, but I plan to cover it right up again. But that’s not today’s point. You see the photo - the band aid doesn’t exactly blend in, and it’s right there in the middle of my face.

It’s flippin’ obvious.

Now, in my workplace they tend to make fun of things, or at the very least to comment on them. I wore a down vest, and it was “Hey, Rob, the 80’s called, and they’d like Michael J. Fox’s vest back!” I ride my motorcycle to work and it’s “Hey, tough guy! Want to go for a ride on the back of my hog?” I ride my bicycle on to work, and I hear “What’s the matter, your car break down in this 40 degree weather? What a shame!” 

This last one is usually followed by laughter.

So you can imagine how braced I was walking in this morning with this band aid on my nose. All morning long I was ready, and I mean ready, waiting for the first shot to come. Wondering where it would come from, who it would be.

I walked across the floor, out in the open, tense, ready to hear it. Ready for anything.

Nothing.

I spoke face-to-face with people, some of them the very ones who snickered at the thought that my car might be broken down, necessitating my using a bicycle. I stared into their eyes and I saw their focus shift about, darting away then settling repeatedly on the space between my eyes; the band aid. I waited, held my breath in anticipation of the zinger.

Nothing.

All morning long, and now, out on the road, talking to a few of my customers, it’s the same thing time after time: I see people notice the band aid and act like it’s not there. After seeing all this I’ve come to a conclusion.

Band aids are magic.

People see them but refuse to see them! It’s like that Alec Baldwin movie where he plays The Shadow, called, coincidentally enough, The Shadow, where people were hypnotized not to see stuff. But I know how to find out. I know just how to put the magic of the band aids to the test.

I’d considered doing the ‘Emperor’s New Clothes’ thing, and wrapping myself completely in nothing but band aids and seeing if I was invisible. The only problem with that was they’d wind up stuck to some seriously sensitive skin, and eventually I’d have to peel them off.

Oh. My. God.

That idea went out the window.

Instead, the next time I fly anywhere I’m going to band aid a few pills to my body, in plain sight. Right on my face.

Let’s see what TSA does with that one.

No, wait. I’ve had troubles with TSA before, and I wasn’t even trying to be a smart-ass then. (Please see blog entries Logan on a Monday, Danger Will Robinson!, and The Friendly Skies? to see what I mean)

Maybe I better re-think this whole plan. Before I wind up in that little security room with the gloves and the jelly... and the terror...

Talk to you later!