So I'm walking to work this morning feeling totally down about my job and my commute and my age and everything, and I see this tall, black woman standing at the entrance to the commuter parking lot.
Her race had nothing to do with it, now that I think about it. It's the kind of thing that my daughter would probably call me on. "Why does her being black matter?" I suppose it doesn't. Except, I suppose, as a descriptive. IF she had assaulted me then I'd want to be sure the cops knew she was black. But she didn't assault me, so I guess I'm back to the fact that her race didn't matter.
Anyway, she was standing at the entrance to the parking lot and my first thought was, "Is that a prostitute?" She wasn't wearing fishnets or anything remarkably skanky, and we simply don't get hookers in this part of town as the street has a ton of cameras up and down it. Still, she was just standing there on the sidewalk like she had no where in particular to be. She was just "hanging out" like you see prostitutes doing in movies and TV.
I wanna say she was wearing black boots and a purple skirt under a long coat, but I may be projecting back on the experience now. After all, I was only looking at her from the corner of my eye. The moment you make eye contact that's when people ask you for money or to vote for some ass or to be a Jehovah's Witness. I know because I'm a big softy and they can see it on me. They real me in and I give them money that I honestly can't afford to give. But as I walked by she said something anyway. She completely ignored the fact that I was ignoring her. I couldn't hear what she said because of my earbuds, so I took one out and said, "What?" I was kinda hoping she'd say something like, "Wanna go into the alley for some strange?" Not because I wanted that, because I really didn't. I wanted her to say something like that because it would make for a great story.
Instead she said, "Nice hair," and I immediately felt bad for thinking she was a prostitute when all she wanted to do was comment on my awesome hair. Ok, my hair isn't that awesome. I mean, it's totally awesome, but I'm supposed to say it isn't so I don't seem arrogant. Trust me, I'm a short, overweight, middle aged, balding, plain looking guy, but, at least for a little while, my hair looks awesome. And it was nice of this loitering woman to notice.
Except, in that very short moment before the next thing happened, it started to occur to the back of my mind, where the cynical jerk in me squats, "This could be bait for a trap. Don't take the bait" But the rest of me said, "It isn't bait, you jerk. Besides, what am I supposed to do, ignore her compliment?"
"Thanks," I said to her and I began to put the earbud back in my ear when she said, "Are you LGBT?"
"No," I said and thought, "what the heck is this?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to offend you. I'm trans and I just thought with your look you might be part of the LGBT."
"My look," I thought. I'm wearing an old coat, khakis and a green button shirt. Then I said, "No, you didn't offend me." And she didn't. "I support the LGBT community. I'm just not one," which is true.
"Oh," she said. "That's great. Could you help me out with some money so I can get some Chick fil a and so I don't have to resort to prostitution?"
"HA!" I heard the cynic in the back of my head shout. "I was right."
"You were not right, you ass," I thought back. "She's nice. And I'm gonna give her $5 so she doesn't have to be a prostitute."
"You're such a naive idiot," he said.
I gave her a few dollars and she gave me a hug with a little more cheek touching than I was comfortable with. I could feel her face stubble. I wished her happy new year and she wished it back.
As I walked away I was torn between feeling good about myself and loving this strange and diverse city, and wondering if I should come to work a different way tomorrow. I also made a mental note to buy more button up shirts.
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