Staff scurried about, and in the space of what seemed like a badly edited film snippet, John and Susan were out on North Robertson Boulevard, amid sleeping Saabs and Audis, in dazzling sunlight that made the insides of their eyeballs bubble as though filled with ginger ale. I could climb Alps in these puppies. Maybe you saw them. They were on the air for years. That wasn't my first lesson, but it was one of the strangest.
Commercials are weird.
A mailman walked by, and once he'd passed John and Susan, in cahoots they copied his exaggerated stride, then made devilish faces at each other. Susan appraised him. I'll guess forty. But that's good. If you're not forty, then it means you've accrued wisdom beyond your, say, thirty-five years.