"The Latex Castaway"

Again, my apologies for not submitting many blogs lately. Without further hesitation I grant you the honor of reading my blog once again…as usual instead of enjoying the blog you will probably be thinking about all the productive things you could be doing instead of reading this…

**And for those reading on Facebook, you can read all my past blogs at http://stevemcdevitt.blogspot.com/

And now to the reading…

Last week while jogging on a nearby trail, I came to rest at a quaint playground just as my lungs were about to throw in the white flag and I was ready to collapse due to exhaustion. A few youngsters acknowledged me as they enjoyed some of the park’s amenities, however others were too busy tossing sand in each other’s faces to notice my presence. I’m not one to judge a day of mischief and tomfoolery but sand in one’s eyes strikes me as a bit flippant, but what do I know? Since the judge instituted that mandatory restraining order against me back in ’88 for my Soccer Mom stalking problem keeping me at least 400 yards away from any park, field or Aerostar van, I truly didn’t know what the hip kids were up to these days.

Dying of thirst, I pressed emphatically on a water fountain, anxious for the refreshing water to be the elixir for my dry, non-salivating mouth. Just as the crisp, cool water was about to hit my lips and prevent my body from shutting down completely, turning me into a useless piece of jelly, I saw it; there right in the fountain, was the brightest pink used condom I’d ever seen. Clinging to the drain like a drowning victim clinging to a life raft the condom remained impermeable to the gushing water’s attempts at dislodging it. I don’t claim to have a vast knowledge of pink condoms, so one would not consider me an expert, but this one may have been the first condom created using a color previously undiscovered in the universe. If a representative from Crayon, hot on pursuit of a fresh new flamboyant, pinkish hue was in the area, he would have done cartwheels around me and announced his search had ceased. Me on the other hand, felt a feeling of thirst quickly being replaced by the feeling of wanting to vomit. The water hit my pursed lips and careened onto my shirt. This pink imposter seemingly strategically positioned to turn my stomach into knots wasn’t the first used condom in public I’ve come across and I’m sure it won’t be my last, but one thing was for sure – I would soon learn this was the first that would haunt me in my nightmares…

Where exactly are people having sex that they feel the need to dispose these latex castaways like dry cleaning leaflets advertising $2 pressed shirts? At the park, on the street, on the curb, underneath the honeydew I’ve selected at the market? Don’t get the wrong idea, there is nothing wrong with sex in public and for the innocence of this blog I’ll plead ignorance on my experiences…ok I’m guilty, however there is something wrong with drinking out of a water fountain with a pink condom staring you square in the face – call me old fashioned…

I’m just throwing a theory out there, but wouldn’t, I don’t know…a trashcan be a great place? I’d even settle for a juniper bush or two, although I know the traditionalists will argue the rope swing down at their local park always seemed like a good spot…

I guess to fully understand how this is happening one would have to fully understand how these abandoned rubbers are finding their final home. We’ll say there are a few instances when they’re left behind by immoral, public sex addicts, impervious to the decency of others, but you’ve got to figure that only accounts for some of the cases. Are people physically leaving the place of fornication to strategically deposit these things in places just to ruin my day?

I guess I picture it something like this…

…Wow Sheila you were a real hit tonight…hmm…what should I do this condom…wait, I know…I think I saw an elementary school playground about six miles back. I’ll just drive out there and leave it on that see saw…that seems like a good place…”

“Yeah honey, that is a great idea…”

Am I way off base and there is another method that results in the transportation of condoms to the bottom of my strawberry soda can?

My advice?

For your sake and for the sake of a poor guy simply stopping for a sip of water and a quick hamstring stretch, you may want to think about finding a nearby trashcan for disposal, or you too may be haunted in your sleep by dilapidated, nauseating pink condoms.