Styles

We opted today for the mall. As we were leaving the apartment, we met some Swiss neighbors. He is from the French side of Switzerland.

me: Oh, Kris speaks French.
him: I'll be the judge of that.
kris: (said something out of embarrassment in English, but I didn't catch it)
him: (something in French)
kris: Oui.
him: If you are planning on going to the Street Parade today, you will see some very unusual sights.
me: Like what?
him: Oh, like naked men running around everywhere, singing, dancing, drinking.
me: Oh. Then I'll need my camera.
kris: Probably wouldn't want to take our kids there.
him: I wouldn't advise it.

We walked to the Rueschlikon train station with our umbrellas (it is raining on someone's naked parade) and both Sarah and Gus wanted something out of one of the vending machines. Sarah picked the Swiss equivalent of a Kit Kat Bar. Gus picked the equivalent of chocolate milk, of course. We sit down on a bench and await the next train, arriving in 12 minutes. Gus is fixated on getting a cell phone, but for now he is happy with his treat.

One minute passes. Gus makes a noise. We look at him. He has somehow managed to blow half his chocolate milk onto his shirt. Now a choice. Continue the path, or go back home and change? We continue.

When we get to the mall, I notice something interesting about what I am wearing versus what everyone else is wearing. I am wearing jean shorts and a polo shirt. Everyone else is wearing long sleeve shirts, jackets, jeans... I am happy how it is finally a tolerable temperature. I don't know what it is because I haven't learned metrics and Fahrenheit conversions yet. Everyone else is chilled. It reminded me how my Swiss colleagues laugh at each other when they come to the offices in America, where our offices are air conditioned, and they have to wear parkas to meetings.

Kris looked whimsical in her flowery rubber boots and shorts. Sarah was styling high as usual. I was a weekend chump. Gus looked great in his chocolate milk.