Late Saturday night, I was walking home from a solid St. Patty's Day party. It was so good that the po-po came. At around 2 am, I was standing at a major intersection waiting to cross the street. The area was pretty deserted as last call hadn't yet emptied the nearby bars.
Normally, I would jaywalk, but a car was approaching and its speed made me think that it was either a drunk or lost driver. I didn't want to take any chances so I waited for the car to pass. The car slowed down and veered toward where I was standing. I looked down into the car, assuming the person was indeed lost. But no, this middle age White man starts pumping his fist in a most obscene hand gesture. After staring in shock for a few seconds, I recovered and yelled a few explicatives in response. He drove away and I continued to walk (much quicker) home.
Floyd said that my 'hood used to be a hotspot for prostitutes--sorta like the Marvin Center first/second floor bathroom used to be a hotspot for cruising. But, wtf, I was not wearing prostitute garb. I was wearing the most unflattering outfit--baggy pants and a shapeless coat. Just because a person is standing at an intersection waiting to cross the street doesn't mean that s/he is a sex worker looking to get paid. I felt sorry for the dude and hoped that he made his way to K Street--just blocks from the White House--where I know he'd be able to get his fill.
Otherwise, I had a great, full weekend. I did just about everything on my to-do list (minus all the important things like laundry and Hill apps). I went to the National Mall on Saturday and was crestfallen to realize that the tourist season has resumed in D.C. I still haven't gone to the Washington Monument, and I fear that the best time for touring D.C. is now over. Instead of huddling in my apartment during the past few months, I should have braved the cold temperatures and ventured to all the D.C. sites. Oh well. There is still a little time before the mad-rush of the Cherry Blossom Festival.
4 comments:
Oh my, that is too funny. If you were wearing knee-high boots,a hot pink pleather miniskirt, and a feather boa, with your hair all fro'd out, maybe I would understand his mistake. But classy pants-clad Hippo? NOT open for business. At least not for a drive-by.
For the record, I don't think that "fro'd out" hair would add to a hooker look. just saying...
well no, not in and of itself. i just think that large and/or wild hair has a stronger hooker vibe than, say, a ponytail or bun. =)
perhaps, but so many folks had large/wild hair back in the 1960s and 1970s, and though that was a time of "free love" and lots of recreational drugs, I don't think a huge amount of folks were getting paid to be promiscuous back then.
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