Me: You know how I’ll know when we’re really successful? When I can buy the New York Times just to throw it in the trash so that the garbage men will think I’m smart and sophisticated.
Victor: You can buy the New York Times now.
Me: Yes, but then I’d feel like I have to read it. Have you seen it? It’s enormous. And there isn’t even a comic section.
Me: Well, I assume. I’ve never made it all the way through. I mainly just buy it when I’m on a plane because then I look smart and also it’s really big and so it makes a good blanket.
Victor: Because the smartest people on the plane are huddled under newspapers like homeless people.
Me: I don’t huddle. I drape the sections over me gracefully. And then I crumple some into a makeshift pillow. Sometimes I make a paper prom dress or sailer hat. And then I sigh to myself and shake my head condescendingly and tell the person next to me that I found another error in the crossword section.
Victor: I thought you didn’t like to talk to people on planes?
Me: I don’t. That’s why I say that. Say something ridiculous like that and people assume you’re either incredibly smart or incredibly stupid. Either way, they tend to avoid you the rest of the flight.
Victor: Or maybe it has something to do with the fact that you’re wearing the sports section like a Snuggie.
Me: Well, whatever works.
Winner: Victor by default because “sports section snuggie” is fantastic alliteration.