The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1929-02-05

, station i'll beige slippers with four
inch heels which was wrong. I knew
it practically from the very begin
ming, but it wasn't completely i'm
pressed on me until after the Sec
ond debacle in the middle of Main
street which is no place to have a
debacle.
They Had to Listen
After being introduced to my
helpless audience in condition of
/, blind staggers-me, not the audi
ence-I held them Spellbound for
fifty minutes because they couldn't
go any place else. There wasn't
any place else to go. And always I
was fighting with the Subconscious
commission please do not put your
feet on their chairs" and please
do not spit on their floor"
Finally the ordeal was over and
the president took me down to the
door. ~"It's such a terrible night"
she purred (never trust purring
woman) "that I ordered a taxi for
you. Your interurban leaves at 6
and it's quarter till now, but you'll
make it all right
my dinner?" I murmured feebly,
having had no lunch.
"Oh, how sweet of my husband"
she returned, ''he has stopped for
me. Goodbye, dear, I enjoyed the
afternoon SO much. Byebye."
There / was stranded and alone
in the cold dark vestibule of the
Woman's Club at Fl. Wayne on a
dim and stormy night with my
beautiful interurban that had signs
en- it please do not put your feet
or the seats and please do not
spit on the f1oor'-God love it
leaving in fifteen minutes!
And the taxi didn't come. My
own personal opinion, and of course,
I shouldn't want to be quoted on
this, is that it got into an intense
physical affair with a fire plug and
the fire plug bravely knocked off
a hind wheel and walked home.
Wasted my Moment
Anyway. I walked over to corner
OF the vestibule and did a little
serious swearing III a manner that
would have pleased the ribald heart
of Monsieur Francois Villon, but
still the taxi didn't come. And while
waited and the minutes were pass
ing inexorably, a sweet young thing
! about forty tripped by and said
graciously, IT want to thank you, my
dear, for your whipped cream mo-
ments!" Now, by all the gods,
primitive, medieval and modernistic,
if she meant what I think she meant,
! should have obeyed that impulse.
j. L. Mueller is constantly advising
me to sock somebody or other on the
jaw. and that was my Moment"
There We were all alone-we two
she and Lin the dim VeStibule.
! What a moment for going ataviStic
and handing out a swell sock. Well,
I'll have to regret it as one of my
life's great wasted opportunities.
AT z minutes Of 6 I was in a
state of third degree shock what
with no lunch and less dinner, so
I decided to walk to the station, in
spite of the fact that the sidewalks
and streets were like a skating rink.
Worn and nerve wracked from
my experience in the Tyrolean Alps,
climbed on quiyering car that
was putting and blowing and sub
sided into seat. Mon Dieu! /
looked up more dead than alive and
there were those -letter-word-
beginning with-d-and-ending with
signs, please do not put your
feet on the seats" and please do
not spit on the hoorl"
The only thing to do about 1t
seemed to me to so off into state
of mild delirium in which I thought
the conductor was my keeper.
, And still the thing that gripes
me about the whole trip is, what
did that woman mean by that
whipped cream stuff?
As soon as 1 got comfortably in
trenched in my own home by mid
night, I passed bruSkly by mother
and father. even passed up hot
food. I was so mad. I sat right
down, put lny feet on the seats and
-deliberately-spat on the floor!