start of train job

I've always considered myself a "student of life." That's always a convenient way of explaining away longs stints of unemployment. It didn't just pop into my head, though. People always assume, from my cherubic visage and ample free time that I must be a student.

"So what are you doing with yourself?" a stranger at a cocktail party might ask (if I ever went to cocktail parties).

A long silence would ensue, and the stranger might say, "Are you a student?" To which I would nod and head straight over to the bar for another martini.

But I suppose it makes sense in some way. Last week, for example, my teacher could've been that policeman who accused me of drug experimentation and "being a goddamn hippie," the supermarket checkout lady who wondered why I was buying ten cans of chili, or the bus driver who shook his head in scorn when I hopped on board without a shirt.

I can't really limit my teachers to just humans. All the world is a potential teacher; anything, it looked at pessimistically enough, can remind you of your faults and failures. So perhaps I am a student in direct proportion to my despair. Piles of dog shit on the street have probably taught me at least as much about life as my entire freshman year of high school.

So, yes, I am a student, and tend to gravitate towards student-type jobs. Ironically, these would be jobs which have no responsibility and teach you nothing. One such job would be my stint at Zilker Park, as a train engineer.

I reported to my job "interview" in swimming trunks.

"Sit down, uh, Bill?"

"Yes, Bill. That's my name."