Observations from a Physics Class

The Vanilla Wafer boy, the one who skateboards from the bus stop to class in gray shoes with no laces, brought Skittles this week. Green are his favorite.

As a lead-in to a lecture on momentum, our professor asked who likes golf. I wanted to raise my hand. The guy from Texas, the one who got 100 percent on the test, is a golfer.

My professor had eight pens in his shirt-front pocket: five green Pilot G2's and three Bic fine point. I counted them when he came up the aisle to make fun of a dude wearing a USC sweatshirt. The pens sit in front of his calculator, the one he got for seven dollars at Kmart. The one he takes everywhere, including church -- in case he needs to know the acceleration of an object, like a church program paper airplane in free-fall towards the the widow with the purple hair. Or the roll away Cheerio set free by a two year-old running down the aisle, much to the chagrin of his mother, who next week, will hopefully pack Rice Chex. They can't roll.

I spent the majority of class reading poetry and watching the green to red Skittles ratio remain relatively equal, one red for every green. (I like the red best). The remainder were eaten by the handful before we parted for our next class.