It's the hats
Jan. 28th, 2009 09:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabidsamfanThe other evening I left the T at Downtown crossing because it was pretty clear that there were a gazillion people waiting for a late orange line train, and it was going to be a whole lot easier, and more comfortable, to walk the few blocks over to the blue line and get home that way.
Of course, once I was above ground I was in the temptation zone, and I decided to have some chili at Wendy's for dinner instead of crawling home and staring uselessly into the refrigerator. Got my chili, looked for a seat, found one, much to the annoyance of the guy who had spread his stuff over chairs at three tables. (No, actually, your backpack does not count as a "person", so I can sit opposite it quite happily.) Squirted the not-quite-sour-cream (acidulated?) into my chili, crunched up my crackers and deposited them into same, took a sip of Dr. Pepper and began to dine.
As I ate, I read, and was about halfway down the container when I heard someone say "Nice hat!"
Now, I get "nice hat!" a lot, because I usually wear a black cowboy hat with indian bead trim. Particularly from street folks, who spend a lot of time people watching. But on this occasion I was wearing a bright orange knit creation with two dangly bobbles at the bottom and one bobbly bit at the top, and so far it hasn't yet attracted the same kind of attention.
I turned to thank my admirer and found myself eyeball to eyeball with a little old lady -- emphasis on the little! (Remember I was still sitting down.) She leaned on her cane, eyeing my hat gleefully and said, "I wore one that same color to school on Saint Patrick's Day when I was a girl."
"That must have been interesting," I said, since by her accent she'd grown up in or near Southie.
"Oh yes," she giggled wickedly. "Mrs. Murphy made me go to the principal."
I raised an eyebrow. "You wore it deliberately?"
"Yes!" she said, enjoying my astonishment. "I was always the one who would do things when I was a girl. If you were afraid to do it, you'd ask me, and I'd do it for you."
I laughed. "You must have had a wonderful time."
"I did," she said, with great satisfaction. "Nice talking to you!" and off she went to get her supper. As I was leaving I saw her again and complimented her on her choices.
"That looks good," I said.
"Yes," she said. "It's a dinner of 'I didn't have to cook' and that's always good."
We said our goodnights, but today I saw her again as I went through one of the T stations. She was wearing a soft beret in the hottest pink this side of 1978.
"Hey," I said. "Nice hat!"
Of course, once I was above ground I was in the temptation zone, and I decided to have some chili at Wendy's for dinner instead of crawling home and staring uselessly into the refrigerator. Got my chili, looked for a seat, found one, much to the annoyance of the guy who had spread his stuff over chairs at three tables. (No, actually, your backpack does not count as a "person", so I can sit opposite it quite happily.) Squirted the not-quite-sour-cream (acidulated?) into my chili, crunched up my crackers and deposited them into same, took a sip of Dr. Pepper and began to dine.
As I ate, I read, and was about halfway down the container when I heard someone say "Nice hat!"
Now, I get "nice hat!" a lot, because I usually wear a black cowboy hat with indian bead trim. Particularly from street folks, who spend a lot of time people watching. But on this occasion I was wearing a bright orange knit creation with two dangly bobbles at the bottom and one bobbly bit at the top, and so far it hasn't yet attracted the same kind of attention.
I turned to thank my admirer and found myself eyeball to eyeball with a little old lady -- emphasis on the little! (Remember I was still sitting down.) She leaned on her cane, eyeing my hat gleefully and said, "I wore one that same color to school on Saint Patrick's Day when I was a girl."
"That must have been interesting," I said, since by her accent she'd grown up in or near Southie.
"Oh yes," she giggled wickedly. "Mrs. Murphy made me go to the principal."
I raised an eyebrow. "You wore it deliberately?"
"Yes!" she said, enjoying my astonishment. "I was always the one who would do things when I was a girl. If you were afraid to do it, you'd ask me, and I'd do it for you."
I laughed. "You must have had a wonderful time."
"I did," she said, with great satisfaction. "Nice talking to you!" and off she went to get her supper. As I was leaving I saw her again and complimented her on her choices.
"That looks good," I said.
"Yes," she said. "It's a dinner of 'I didn't have to cook' and that's always good."
We said our goodnights, but today I saw her again as I went through one of the T stations. She was wearing a soft beret in the hottest pink this side of 1978.
"Hey," I said. "Nice hat!"
