The times... they are a changin'...

Last night, I wore boat shoes on the D6. Don’t worry, they weren’t mine. They were borrowed for last minute kayaking because I had nothing else. But they were still boat shoes. On my feet. Consensually. I will admit that. I was afraid it would forever destroy the integrity of the D6, replacing straight thug cred with whiny, northern Virginia arrogance. There was a man who sat next to me whose distracting case of the shakes were worsened on the way from 2nd to 14th Street. I’m certain the boat shoes were to blame. But alas, I made it home and convinced myself that I had committed worse atrocities in my time. Like the time I wore cargo shorts in public – that was way worse… right? The night went strangely. I had a cigarette for dinner. I cleaned my room for the first time in a month. The universe seemed to be turned upside down.

I got on the d6 this morning to go to work, and BAM! Right next to me stood this boy next door with green eyes, an upturned nose with a spattering of freckles, ray bans, khakis, and boat shoes. His light reading? A kindle with a book about wine. The chapter I caught was called Imperial Vine. Seriously. I don’t know why he was on the bus, or what his father would say, but I feel single handedly responsible for paving the way for that to happen. Nothing further happened on the bus this morning, except that my iPod ran out of power so I had to sit in discomfort and fill my ears with the bitter silence of preppy entitlement that replaced the once bustling d6 crowd.

Other overheards? In San Antonio…

“Do you ever look around yourself and realize how horribly unpopular you are?” –A, on a 6 year old placing a special request to sit next to another aunt

“I mean, I know I’m not fat, but I want a wedding body.” – one skinny girl to another on the blue line. This is really what our world has come to.