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Bus Story: Sometimes It Is Just A Fashion Choice

March 12, 2013

Her hair is like a conquistador’s helmet. Her shoes are black slippers with sparkles. Her lace stockings, clearly visible owing to her upper-thigh hemline, would make a frontier madam blush. From under her drooping locks, her eyes stare out, an expression of utter surprise affixed and unchanging. My mind whirls with possibilities. But then she answers her phone and, in a tone that is at the same time defensive and wheedling, she explains her elaborate wedding reception plans to her mother. By the time she gets to when, precisely, the groomsmen will unfold the tables and the exact hour each food item is presented for an all-day, multi-course affair (ending with s’mores, of all things), my shift into magical reality has come to an abrupt halt. She just has weird hair and an odd outfit. Time to move on, because I’m sure Odin or the Easter Bunny will climb aboard at the next stop and I don’t want to miss them.


From → Bus Stories

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