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I have no idea what those words mean in the title.
It's like a foreign language, possibly from another planet. One where numbers and acronyms, nicknames and partial phrases are preferred.
And if you told me what they mean, I wouldn't understand the explanation.
I do know the Rockies is a Denver baseball team.
So that's something.
My younger brother was driving. He pulled up to a gas station in Englewood on Broadway but not to a pump. He parked his car parallel to the outer sidewalk then went inside. I was sitting in the passenger seat struggling to comprehend the meaning of a sign right in front of the car. I was sounding it out in my head over and over, failing to see anything sensible, thinking it odd for a gas station to reference birds in Latin.
Ah-veys
Ah-veys
Ah-veys
Ayevs
Ayevs
Ayevs.
I couldn't make sense of it. This gas station was like the Twilight zone. A place that put up weird signs.
James returned.
"For the life of me I cannot make sense of that sign. I'm stumped. Why are they saying birds in Latin?"
My brother looked at me nonplussed, somewhat bemused, somewhat disgusted, "I can never tell when you're putting me on."
"I honestly don't know what they mean."
"Avalanche. It's a hockey team."
"oooOOOOOOOOOoooh. The gas station is rooting for the team. We're supposed to know that."
"Just so you know; you are very strange."
It happens sometimes.
Another incident we went to Blackhawk for dinner. It's a one-time mining town. A good place for teens to go hang out. It was anyway. Until they turned it into a gambling place. Now it's flooded with out-of-state money and the casinos are a fairly good place to go for buffets and a nice mountain drive.
We went up to the salad bar and the dressings ladles were marked in handwriting with the type of dressing. All typical choices except one.
ITALIAN, FRENCH, RANCH, LOCAL
"Jimmy, this place is weird. I heard of house dressing but I never heard of local dressing. I wonder what type of dressing Blackhawk dressing would be."
"Please stop fucking with me."
"I'm not. I really am wondering. I almost tried it just to see. Corn for gold nuggets or what?"
"Low Calorie."
"oooOOOOOOOOOoooh."
"You have GOT to be kidding me."
"No. I'm not. They need a hyphen in there. Or a "W."
6 comments:
Go local bird sports team. Yay.
LOLOL or at least a space.
Wolters is a 3rd string catcher. A Crash Davis. His game winning hit was classic baseball lore. But, his post game interview brought tears to my eyes.
Catchers and home plate umpires have a beautiful unwritten camaraderie. If one gets hurt by a foul ball the other covers for him, stalling for time. Well, in the last inning when Wolters was catching, he got crossed up and the ump, or "blue" as players call them, got hit w/ a 95mph fastball in the shoulder. As Buster Olney interviews Wolters on the field right after the win, Wolters makes it a point to apologize to "blue" for missing catching that fastball. I really like Wolters.
The sexiest man in the park, always? The home plate ump. And you can take that to the bank :)
I don't know about sexiest but the home plate ump is the manliest man on the field. Has to be to be effective.
I'm with Chip on that sign. Who can figure out Avalanche from Ave? Go Avs, maybe.
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