Last Friday morning, I was riding the shuttle at the D/FW International airport, on my way to pick up a rental car. I sat opposite a guy in his mid-30's, who had that look, both relieved and anxious, of a businessman coming home. Some six feet away, on the opposite side of the luggage rack, were two gruff men, in faded jeans and casual shirts, grayed and in their 50's, talking about an imminent sales presentation of some vague, barely imaginable sort that was to take place in Waco later that day.
Their banter was ear-catching in that it was liberally seasoned with a bracing flow of profane exclamatory utterances and adjectives. Conversational, and yet startling in its extremity, given the setting and the fact that it would it would not be noon for several hours, anywhere in the hemisphere.
Anyway, one of these grizzled carpetbaggers then said this to the other, "What we really need is a coupla shots of JD this morning, ya know? You gotta feed the hair of that dog, I'm telling ya."
And that utterly inane and bizarre turn of phrase has left me bewildered and amused ever since. My gaze met that of the guy sitting across the aisle from me and we traded subtle, wry grins at what we had just heard. I suspect that it will be a long time before I hear another colloquial expression so violently abused as that. At least I think I hope so.