6/14/2006

When I got off the train last night, the first thing I noticed was that there were more people than usual around and traffic was backed up terribly. As I walked home, there were people randomly yelling and screaming, but in a happy way. I couldn't figure out what the hell was going on. I finally decided it had to be World Cup related, so I asked Charlie who had played yesterday. Brazil / Croatia. Ahh. That explains it.

Apparently, I have a lot of Brazilians in my neighborhood. And boy, were they happy. Actually, on the way home from the gym later, I also passed by a few people wearing Croatian shirts. So I guess I have a nice mix.

On the train this morning, one of the first things I noticed was an MTA employee in my car. I didn't think much of it. Nothing terribly unusual there. I read the patch on his shirt sleeve: MTA Collections Agent. Okay. But halfway through the ride, he turned around and faced the opposite direction, and I saw on his right side was a holster. With a gun. And when he sat down a few minutes later, it almost seemed like the vest he was wearing was bulletproof, from the stiffness and the way it pushed up. All of which makes me wonder, "What the hell kind of collection agents does the MTA have?"

Also in my car, having joined us at 23rd and Ely, was a young woman who appeared to be in her late twenties, but honestly, it was hard to tell from the amount of make-up she had on. She was wearing white pants, a very tight white, v-neck shirt (that, of course, did not reach all the way down to her pants), and carried a white purse. Her hair was a shade of blonde not found in nature and her make-up was "hard" looking. You know, like obviously unnatural. As if she were wearing lipliner filled in over her lips, no gloss to be seen, one shade of make-up over her face with no blush. It was painful. Seriously, woman, add some color to your life. Branch out. Let your hair go back to normal. Wear some blush and some lip gloss. Wear all white and carry a red purse. Something. I mean, the woman standing next to you, same approximate age, was hardly a fashion icon but at least she looked normal.