Rest Stop Karma
by Robert Tiffin
So, two
Buddhist monks walk into a rest stop bathroom. A
homeless guy is sleeping on the floor next to his
bike while Robert is using the can.
No, it's not a
joke. It's the fulfillment of Rest Stop Karma (RSK),
which states that you will never be able to
imagine something more random than what actually
occurs at Rest Stops. RSK is what makes it pretty
standard fare to read about a hidden North Korean
plutonium mine buried beneath a Rest Stop. RSK is
what makes you admit that if a lobster were to
crawl out of the urinal you were using and recite
the Ten Commandments in Spanish, you most likely
wouldn't mention it to your wife when you got
back to the car. Not because she wouldn't believe
you, but because it would bore her to death.
After all, she met Neil Armstrong in the Ladies'
room. Of course, that's not really surprising
considering the axiom that all women's restrooms
must be at least 258% nicer than their
corresponding men's rooms, though the question of
why Neil Armstrong was in the Ladies' room in the
first place is certainly an interesting one. In
fact, whether or not his presence would make it
nicer at all might be an even more interesting
question. (I bet Buzz Aldrin has a good joke
about why he was in there.) Anyway, the point I'm
trying to make here is that Buddhist monks should
help people like that homeless guy. I mean, why
are they wearing bright orange robes in the first
place if they don't want to brag to everyone else
about how selfless and compassionate they are?
Buddhist monk conventions probably have lots of
gossip among the different sects about how
Djarmang and Tiechlin are wearing way too orange
of robes this year and how someone should give
them wedgies to take them down a peg. You can
vividly imagine, I'm sure, the confrontation
between the tough-guy monks at the convention and
those goody two-shoes, over-the-top-orange-wearing
guys. And really, even if their robes aren't too
orange (how do you know when something is too
orange?), I kind of hope that they get wedgies
anyway, because the idea of orange-clad tough-guy
monks giving wedgies to two guys named Djarmang
and Tiechlin is really, really funny in the first
place.
So when they
walked out of the bathroom a minute after I did,
I was really disappointed—I heard absolutely
NO mention of compassion or mercy or wedgies
whatsoever. They just got back in their minivan
and drove away, probably laughing about me while
I was standing next to my old Hyundai. Jerks.
While I was
waiting for my wife to stop talking to Neil
Armstrong, I thought about going back into the
bathroom to help the homeless guy. Maybe I could
give him a blanket or some extra clothes to keep
him warm. Maybe Buddhist Monks aren't the only
ones who can be selfless and compassionate after
all...
In the end,
however, I decided not to go back inside. The
only extra piece of clothing I have is an old,
orange robe I stole from the back of a minivan
and I'm saving it for my next software convention.
Jeff's going be so jealous.
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