Walkers

I saw her shuffling along as I was coming down the hill and towards I-5. I sort of kicked the concentration into overdrive to make sure that I was indeed seeing a woman in short shorts. And I was; at six in the morning. And while it’s not quite winter yet, it is Rocktober for the love of Pete. It was cold enough in the predawn this morning make me think that my exposed hand was beginning to hurt with the chill and I might think about shoving it into my everlovin’ pocket.

Short shorts!

When she started walking again, I noticed the really bizarre gait she was using. It reminded me of a T.Rex – well, it’s the first thing that came to mind. I began to think maybe her legs were going numb on her, or maybe she was getting used to her new robot legs, perhaps even she’d been shot recently in the hips. But then I noticed, and wondered how the hell I’d missed them to begin with, the white stilettos. The heels were bigger than my head, well my head at age 9 let’s say. It was no wonder she was walking as though crossing a tightrope with a razor blade in her ass crack.

Now I don’t like to make assumptions, but…

Well, that is a ginormous lie. I like to make assumptions; big, inappropriate assumptions.

If that woman wasn’t a prostitute, she might think about looking into it as a gig. She has the appropriate wardrobe. It’s not the first time I’d seen a prostitute to be sure, but I was a little stunned by the location. Capitol Hill is more of a junky neighborhood than a sex worker one. I kept walking.

Down around Pike Place, I noticed a shambling woman crossing the street with a deflated piece of rolling luggage. I couldn’t hear her singing, as my headphones were on, but I could tell she was by the way her mouth bounced and arms flailed about. It was much like myself when I’m taken with a song and all done up and six kinds of . She was approaching one of the few other people on the sidewalk this time of morning, a man with a tie, nice overcoat. I again couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she threw her rolley bag down and reined in the flailing, meanwhile our nameless sharp dresser had a look on his face that was a combination of fear and smelling something bad. I kept walking, but…

Said woman stopped me a few paces later, tapping on my arm. I pulled the headphones out of my ears and waited.

“Hey man, do you think you can spare a couple bucks? I…”

“No,” I said, not waiting for the sad sack tale that was about to spill. “All kinds of no.”

“I’ll just keep following you,” she said with a sick little smile. “I’ll keep following you and bugging you.”

“Have at it,” I said. “I got about two more miles to go and headphones that will drown out pretty much everything.”

I popped said headphones back into my ears just as Velvet Underground’s “Sister Ray” was kicking in. Perfect. Rolley bag lady apparently wasn’t up for the challenge and continued on a different route. Oh early morning city trip, how I love thee.


Rocktober song of the day: “Black Wave/Bad Vibrations” by The Arcade Fire