Driving to work, me behind the wheel, Stephen in the passenger seat, he sits holding a banana - his snack for work - in one hand, in his lap. It's a funny thing, a banana. A funny word and a funny shape, and you can't help but want to play with a banana, flop it around a little, make a lazy magic wand out of it. Now Stephen can't stop himself. He lets out a noise that sounds like, "wheee!" and turns that banana upright so that it resembles what you'd expect a banana in your lap to resemble. I laugh like a thirteen year old boy.
Stephen laughs too, his eyebrows up, surprised at what he just did but obviously also quite pleased. I tell him if I mimed a penis out of a banana, he'd be horrified, and that makes him laugh more. What could be sweeter, two people laughing together over something so sublimely immature?
We drive on toward work. Morning sunshine through the windshield. In all seriousness, now, he says, “That’s why I hate carrying a banana around with me. A banana is never just a banana.”
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