The Man With a Tricorder in His Ear

I saw a man with a Tricorder in his ear this morning. No, I have not been drinking. . .I saw what I saw. The man had a Tricorder, straight from Star Trek, stuck in his ear. I got a pretty good look because I was standing behind him at Starbucks. Actually, it wasn't exactly stuck in his ear. . .it was sort of laying across his ear, attached with a rubber thingy that wrapped around the sticky-out part of his left ear.

At first I thought it might be a hearing aid. But it was way too colorful and BIG. The color was a muted metallic red, green and blue with some gold trim. Hearing aids, at least the ones I'm familiar with, are much duller in tone, designed to blend in so people won't notice them. Nope. It was no hearing aid. This guy wanted you to notice this thing. He was damn proud of it as near as I could tell. Then I thought it might be a cell phone. I mean, he was the sort of guy that would be talking on a cell-phone in Starbucks. . .very tan, with close-cropped hair and beard with a touch of gray. . .very curt in his manner. . .a man who knows exactly what kind of frapacapawhatever coffee drink he wants. But still. . .I didn’t get the impression he was insecure and needed to scream, "Hey look at me! I'm so important I've got a freakin' cell phone strapped across my ear!" No. It was a tricorder. . .had to be. The only thing I can figure is his personal trainer/guru gave it to him to wear as a kind of hi-tech-new-age-fetish-therapy-device. It's been a long time since I've watched Star Trek. . .but those things have healing properties, right? Maybe he's got a heart condition or asthma or bunions. Strapped to his ear, the tricorder’s healing rays probably constantly bathe his body with positive energy. Hell, I felt good just standing behind the guy.

Well, we both got our coffee and were walking out to our cars when all of a sudden I started hearing voices. . .or at least, one voice. . .somewhere in the vicinity of my head. I’m not kidding. It was so striking that I reached up to see if there was anything strapped across my ear. There wasn’t, but the voice persisted and even though it was quiet, it was very distinct.
“Tricorder huh?”, the voice asked.
With a knee-jerk reaction I shook my head and giggled, “Yeah. . .can you believe it?” Then, with the slow burn of embarrassment sweeping across my face, I realized I was apparently talking to myself in a public parking lot. But before my face completely lit up, the voice stated flatly, “It wasn’t a tricorder. It’s just a cell phone. He uses it while he drives. . .he just left it on while he stopped for a cup of coffee. I’m a little surprised you even noticed it.”
“What? The guy looked liked a walking advertisement for Brookstone”, I countered somewhat defensively.
“Well”, the voice continued. “Maybe. . .but how can you see anything with the Starship Enterprise stuck in your eye.”
“Huh?”, I asked with a certain sickening feeling that accompanies these kinds of moments when old Sunday School lessons start coming back to you.
“Nevermind”, was all I could muster as I got in my car and peeled out of that haunted parking lot, forgetting I had left my coffee on the top of my car.