It was a grey, damp June evening as I saw a rider step off her bus. At first I noticed her attire, it was an eggplant sheath dress and matching long coat. Like something the queen would wear, or a female politician. It was very nice (I loved the color) to be sure, albeit a little conservative for my personal taste. My eyes eventually made it to the hair. I don’ t how else to describe her hair other than ‘80’s rock and roll, not long, ratty and blonde like Lita Ford, but shorter with thick heavy bangs; think sandy blonde Joan Jett. Her boots were tall, but they looked like bad ass motorcycle boots made for some ass kicking.
As she waited to cross the street she held a cigarette in her teeth, jutted out her hip, lit up and you could tell that when she exhaled that smoke was just what she needed. Everything but her attire seemed to fit her. So, was she just heading back from an interview? Did she have some reception job at a big fancy downtown firm that required “business attire”? A job that maybe wasn’t fulfilling but left her enough time, energy and money to rock and roll on the weekends. As she crossed the street she took long, commanding strides and tough, don’t fuck with me drags of her smoke. I liked her. I liked that she kept me guessing. She probably was none of the things that I imagined her being, with the exception that I bet she was a kick ass woman who didn’t take no shit.
That got me to thinking about what people think when they see me. I’m pretty indistinguishable from the other white masses that live in Seattle. I know one thing that always seems to shocks people is when they see me smoking a cig (an ongoing battle, so please no judgment). A co-worker was surprised I smoked when she saw me one day, said I was so “wholesome”. Wholesome? Me? Uhhhh, well I guess I can come across that way. I think it’s my smile. It’s bright, wide and genuine, but much of the time it’s like my masquerade mask. I think we all have one of those masks, some may feel less comfortable in them and others prefer their masks.
But, back to my above mentioned friend…whose true story I’ll never really know. She rocks! I love that she gave me something to think about. And left me with “Went to party last Saturday night, didn’t get drunk, got in a fight. Uh huh, it ain’t no big thing” stuck in my head for days. “Kiss me once, kiss me twice, come on pretty baby kiss me deadly”. Oh, and a shout to all the hard working, hard rocking ladies out there…let’s run the world!