It was another late night at work.
It was bloody cold. I was in Tribeca making my way home after a meeting with a new client. I was not in my usual 20-grommet red Doc Martens, but in conservative slacks and heels. My ride dropped me off about two blocks from the nearest subway. No big deal. I can walk in heels, right? I wish I had dyied my hair blue last week. That way I would be automatically removed from business meetting roster.
The wind is so cold it cuts through my skin. I whish I had my mittens. I have my hands in my pocket, a copy of the Village Voice rolled under my arm and a brown hobo-like bag slung around my shoulder. A boring, safe look. It is planly obvious that I'd rather be wearing my docs and jeans. There is no one out. The sidewalks are empty. The cobblestone streets too. Did I mention it was cold?
There is one intersection left between the nearest subway station and me. I’m walking like I have someplace to go (like someplace out of the cold). There are no cars, so I ignore the do not walk sign and keep walking. There are no people out, except for a man in his mid thirties. He wore a wool trench coat. He looked like some Wall Street dude who was working late. I kept walking. He didn't.
He stopped in the middle of the street. His arms flung wide open, gesturing me to keep walking. There really was no need to stop. There was not a car (or another person, for that matter) within a 4 block radius. But he stopped, and he made a big production of it. I kept walking. As I passed by him, he said something lame along the lines of “ladies first.” I looked over, and he said “thank you for wearing those shoes.”
To which I have to say… WTF? But it was too cold. I kept walking. My eyes were watering. Snot was running down my nose. I couldn’t feel my fingers. There is no one outside, and I manage to run into a guy with a shoe fetishh. OK, I guess….
Labels: city life
