Last week, two women in their twenties, in a restaurant in Ojai, California—one said to the other, “My current chick is the kind who reads novels.”
“That’s cool,” the other said.
“Wait for it,” the first one said. “She’s reading the Bridgeton series. It sucks balls.”
Last month, two women in their forties, in the United Club lounge in London Heathrow—one said to the other, “We’re thinking we might foster and if it doesn’t work out, we just give it back.”
“You mean the child?” the other said.
“Yeah,” the first one said. “But do you think that’ll make us feel bad?”
This week, two women in their twenties, in a sports bar in Los Angeles—one said to the other, talking about her new boyfriend, “To be honest he seems kind of gay. He was raised by two woman.”
“Does he cross his legs?” the other said. “Like, not like a man does?”
“He does!” the first one said.
“Yeah, you can’t train that out of him,” the other said.
Last month, on a flight to Brussels, a middle-aged man sitting across the aisle from me, one row ahead, watched a classical performance on his seat monitor.
The caption said it was the Antwerp Symphony Orchestra. The camera focused on a single musician, a man with a flugelhorn, wearing tortoiseshell glasses. Perhaps he was performing a solo? Maybe fifteen seconds later, the camera shifted to the conductor, then the violins—and the man sitting across the aisle stabbed the screen with his finger to pause it, rewind it, scrub back to the flugelhorn man so he could watch him again. He did this three more times—pause, rewind, rewatch.
Probably needless to say, though I took a walk to confirm it: it was the flugelhorn-er himself. And his carry-on luggage was quite bulky.
On a road trip recently, in Fillmore, California, I stopped at a Starbucks and ordered an espresso.
“How do you want that?” the cashier asked.
“Just espresso.”
“No, but what do you want with it? Like syrups or whip—”
“Nope,” I said. “Just espresso.”
The cashier was maybe sixteen. He gave me a puzzled look, then gazed around for a moment. “You don’t want a temperature change?” he asked. “You want me to put it over ice?”
“No, thank you.”
I paid and stepped aside. The espresso was ready a moment later. The cashier watched me fetch it.
“So, you drink it just like that,” he said, musing. “I’ll be honest, I’ve never seen that before.”
“Maybe it’s old school,” I said.
“That’s sick, bro,” he said. “That’s so sick. I might have to try that.”
A few months ago, Los Vegas, I reached my hotel room and the first thing to greet me, seen through the window, was a large billboard for injuredinahotel.com.
I thought, is my hotel being targeted deliberately? What kind of stay am I in for—food poisoning, maybe a slip and fall?
I was reminded how, this time last year, I was in New Orleans for early Mardi Gras—where I proposed to a young fiancée, if you remember—and if there’s one thing Las Vegas and New Orleans share—besides hospitality, conventions, and open-air mayhem—it’s billboards for lawyers.
Then I thought, but how hospitable of injuredinahotel.com and its attorneys, frankly how Nevada-charming of them. To remind me that life’s a gamble and sometimes bad things happen, but that doesn’t need to make me a loser, in fact it can be a winning fate!
Friends, bust the algorithms! In tomorrow’s supplement for paying subscribers, my weekly three-plus suggestions of things to love:
Dream analysis for the masses
The current HBO/Max show you’ll like more than the new True Detective if you’re somebody who’s inclined to like the new True Detective but doesn’t
A great house mix, violin sonatas, and more
And hey 🪴 if you enjoy these meditations, I’m only able to take the time to write them because some of you—less than 5% of the 4,000+ of you—support my work.
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What the what
Meditations in an Emergency is a weekly mini-essay from writer Rosecrans Baldwin about something beautiful. Paying subscribers receive a Sunday supplement with 3+ ideas of things to love, plus a monthly dispatch from the road, for some inbox wanderlust ⛰️
Rosecrans is the author of Everything Now, winner of the California Book Award. His most recent novel, The Last Kid Left, was one of NPR’s Best Books of the Year. Titles mentioned in this newsletter are stored on a Bookshop list, which pays a small commission. For more—books, articles, etc—check out rosecransbaldwin.com