Tales of a Transient Drifter: The tale of the transient sunglasses...

It all began in such an unassuming sort of way. A casual browsing moment in a Vietnamese shop in Cheb. Crystal, who had consistently been without sunglasses all year, was thinking that maybe, just maybe, she might be able to find something that would suit her fancy, and prevent her from being the one squinting in all the group photos now that the weather had gone all to loveliness. Never wanting to miss out on a moment of making myself look horrifyingly awkward in a pair of sunglasses that seem to have an overwhelming desire to eat my entire face, I joined in.
After several episodes of thick plastic and tacky rhinestones, my eyes fell upon a pair of traditional 1970's aviator sunglasses. They were, admittedly, enormous and gold, two things I generally try to steer clear of. All the same, I lifted them from the rack and slipped them on. To call it magic would cheapen the moment. Instead, it was more like destiny. At 79 KC, they were meant to shade my vision from the sun, like the Disney Princess glasses (purchased in the children's section of Walmart in Eagle River, AK) their predecessor. So they entered my life - through some cajoling on the part of Crystal and Naomi - and brought with them an uncanny desire to pose like a Charlie's Angels movie poster throughout central Europe (see pictures in previous posts for further evidence of this syndrome.)
Upon returning to the US, the glasses did their best to blend into the scenery. After unsurprising comments of horror from my mother, and amused acceptance on the part of my father, they worked their way into the hearts, and onto the faces, of some very entertaining characters. So now, sit back, and enjoy the travels of these epic sunglasses across the ever changing canvas of faces they have recently embraced.