Dear Diary:
As a habitual participant in the weekly car dance â€" a.k.a. alternate side parking â€" I have a front-row seat from which to witness all sorts of human behavior.
Recently, while I was sitting in my “mobile office†in the West Village, a black car slid into the unclaimed spot right in front of me. Out stepped a young man in his late 30s dressed in blue jeans, some sort of team shirt and baseball hat. In an obvious hurry, he popped open the trunk and fished around in the wheel well compartment collecting hidden bits and pieces of clothing, and then jumped back into the front seat. I could see his partial silhouette as he struggled to change into the clothes he had retrieved.
Less than 10 minutes later he emerged dressed in black tights, black studded platform boots, belted hip-length T-shirt, long necklace of exaggerated silver balls, red knit hat purposely pulled into a tall peak, bright orange lipstick, oversize diamond-shaped white framed sunglasses and a yellow clutch purse. Using nearby storefront windows as his mirror, he checked the look, making quick, nervous adjustments.
I was stunned at the transformation and couldn’t help but watch as he made his way down the street, continuing to check his reflection in any available window. I found myself wondering where he came from and whom he pretended to be when he was in his jeans and T-shirt. It made me sad to think that he was forced to hide his true self inside a wheel well.
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