That which lies buried in the cortex

So I’m by myself in the elevator at work yesterday (and please believe me, I am as christless tired of work, and of talking about work, as you are of hearing about it, but the setting is important because this is where I am supposed to be all professional and shit), and it stops a couple of floors down and a tall, sweet-faced rangy/awkward guy with a corona of blond curls gets in, and (certain of you gals know where this is going) driven by a force I did not realize had such power, my mouth actually began forming the word “Krakow!” This impulse was so strong that a strangulated “k…” sort of came out really quietly as my brain stomped hard on my treacherous sound-maker, going (at neuron-melting speed) “SHUT UP MOUTH! Leave the poor Krakow-bastard alone!”

But then later I was like, come on – you have options for dressing yourself and styling your hair that will not provoke this type of near-ungovernable response in women my age, so really, if the brain had failed to manually override the speaking mechanism, would it really have been my fault? Srsly. Krakow.