Rosenwald, Md., has a mayor — me. What it hasn’t had, so far, is a mascot.
I found him on my car roof early this morning before driving my mom to BWI. “Oh, gross,” said my mom, who likes bugs less than her grandson. “I bet he won’t last long up there.”
When we arrived at departures, after a 50-minute drive during which I cannot promise the speed limit was observed, there he — or it — was, pretty much in the exact same spot. My mom said, “No way.” We stared at the hopper as others around us unloaded their passengers. Then she said: “There you go. There’s your story for today.”
Watergate, this is not.
But as I drove away, it occurred to me that this tough grasshopper did deserve a story. Or a blog post, at least. (The Internet desires to be fed with posts!) And because he is such a tough grasshopper, I decided to name him T.G. — tough grasshopper. I’m so witty.
Anyway, I snapped the picture of T.G. in the parking lot of a McDonald’s near the airport. When I got home, he was gone. I wish you a good life, T.G. With your moxie, surely you’ll be around longer than this blog.