Steve Austin

For reasons I care not to disclose, I have been going to physical therapy. You know, you never get hurt doing something heroic like saving the world or being in the Peace Corp. Incidentally, my brother-in-law joined the Peace Corp and went to the Republic of Georgia where he bravely taught English. Unfortunately, he had to come home early. He needed surgery for pneumothorax (hole in his lung). How did he get this? Pre-existing condition. See what I mean? He came home for a minute, grabbed his suit and stated he had to tie up a few loose ends, flew back to Georgia (again, not the state of) and called his mother two weeks later to announce he'd gotten married. Her name is Leila and she is wonderful. But I digress...

The physical therapist is a perky 30 year old who finds joy in inflicting pain upon others. At one moment I made a crack about the Six Million Dollar Man. She looked at me blankly. “You know, Lee Majors? He was bionic?” Again, blank look. “It was a t.v. show in the 70’s,” I implored.

“Let me go see if the secretary knows who he is,” she said as she left the room.

Behind me I heard someone say, “I can’t hold her; she’s breaking up! She’s breaking—”

Another pitched in, “Gentlemen, we can rebuild him. We have the technology.”

Someone started humming the theme song.

By the time the physical therapist returned, she found a roomful of middle-aged people making the sound of bionics and in various stages of slow motion super-heroics. One was slow-mo running, another was beginning a slow-mo jump, another was taking on a weight machine with all the bionic muster and sound possible. I may have been attempting a slow-mo dive while exercising my bionic eye.

Perky P.T. looked at us all, turned around and called to the receptionist, “Tell me again about this bionic guy.”

Iconic culture. What is wrong these kids today?