growing in the goo

You know how sometimes you have those days where you hate everyone who dares tremble in your path? I'm thrilled to note that today was not one of those days.

I was a little irked when I got off at Chinatown and these people waddled out of the train, then cut in front of me at a full-scale molasses-in-July speed, and I was forced to apply my metaphorical brakes. I got around them, headed toward the exit, and I got caught behind a little kid, so I slowed down.

(N.B.: I don't mind being behind kids, slow people who have short legs, or no legs, or one leg that's fine but the other in a crutch. I'm not totally heartless.)

There were these two girls (women?!) around my age walking behind me. I caught a piece of their conversation...
Girl A: He's perfect.
Girl B: He is great...but he does have flaws.
Girl A: Oh, I know. I just don't want to ever find out about them.

Isn't that wonderful? It reminds me of the Sara Evans song "As If"—as in,

You don't have to tell me what you're thinking
You can keep all that to yourself
Baby we got such a good thing going
don't show me that you're someone else

I think we've all been there (are there?) and it's fun to overhear other girls saying the ridiculous things that my friends and I think and say. Sing it, sister! Enjoy the fact that you think he's perfect. Why not?

Then—on to the hair salon. I hate how they're all psychotic about YOU getting there on time, but then you wait for 20 minutes while they do their thing in the back room. At any rate, I was prepared—I had brought along a book.

So, J my hair stylist pops out around 10 minutes later and we did our "introductions" and I said what I wanted done to my do. I then got my hair washed; in a sink, by the way, that was comfortable(!), and then I went back to J's chair. I don't know what I was expecting, but I was sort of stunned when he threw the towel over my head + face and vigorously rubbed it. It was strangely strong and gentle. When he finished 10 short seconds later and pulled the towel off my head, I had this embarrassingly huge grin on my face. Maybe it was just the contact with a guy, even if he was gay? Who knows. All I can say is that I actually enjoyed a stranger smothering me with a towel and then shaking.

Post-haircut I made a beeline to City Sports. This marks the beginning of the Great Red Sox Experiment: 2008. This season I'm going to actually make an effort and TRY to like the Red Sox and understand and take part in the whole experience that gets the populace of Boston in a frenzy. Last year I had promised Pat that I'd give it a go "next season," and go figure—"next season" came awfully fast. I thought I'd have at least until April, you know? So, naturally, in order to transform into a mega-fan, I thought it important that I look the part. But I couldn't find a hat in City Sports that fit my noggin semi-comfortably. They all did weird stuff to my ears.

(While pulling hats on and off I couldn't help but think of those tips in Glamour and Cosmo about how to "make that salon blowout last." Hint: it's not by trying on baseball caps.)

I booked it out of City Sports empty-handed, and thought I heard someone call my name. Turned quickly, saw right behind me a tall attractive male wearing a gray hat, but no one I knew. Darn.

UM I'M AN IDIOT. J.C. WTF?! Why do I never EVER EVER EVER realize that it's you when it's you?! Luckily you're used to this horrendous mental block of mine...and you know that I don't purposely PRETEND to not know you, so you persist in calling my name. And I love how you said "I thought it was you, of course you were coming out of City Sports." Actually, the gym and I are estranged this week...but I'll make an effort to go tomorrow just because you were that sweet.

I think the problem is that we have genuinely random run-ins and seeing you is akin to a celebrity sighting. And I have an excuse for the time that we were at the CUA football game and the Sun was blocking my eyes. You looked headless. But, really? I don't really know why you don't smack me on the head. Perhaps you should start.

At any rate, it was a thrill to run into J.C., even though it was a delayed reaction on my part. Hope you and Reds had fun at the circus!

Back to the hat hunt. Not being one to give up in the face of adversity, I went into the Lids at the mall near my apartment. The girl at the counter was pretty useless, and I didn't really like how she was wearing her hat anyhow, so I didn't really want her help. I was texting Pat and Bub to try to determine the proper fit: is it supposed to do weird stuff with my ears? Is it better for it to be too big or too small? What are the no-no styles and colors that I should avoid?

I was standing there in the tiny corner trying on five different RS hats, elbowing for room with this ungentlemanly guy who was checking out the Yankee paraphernalia and boxing me out. Already getting into it, I mentally thanked him for providing me with my first "Yankees Suck!" animosity.

Getting pushed out by the jerk, I stood closer to the middle of the tiny store, alternating between the L and the XL, and I ran into a stalemate. I looked at the hats in my hands, feeling quite confused and lost. Alone. All of a sudden, like an angel from on high, I heard "Get that one. That's the one to get." I looked up, grateful. A fan (one of my future kind!), in D.C., waiting to take me under his wing! I stepped toward him, but stopped short of the doorway, not wanting to kick things off with a theft. He stepped in, and I told him my "too big" or "too small" dilemma, and I modeled both of them for him while his wife smiled in a strained manner. He weighed in with his professional advice, and I picked one. It was great.

When I got to the register, I had the thought that maybe...maybe none of the hats feel right because I'm unsure about this whole venture, and that's coming out as not finding a hat that truly fits me. Maybe I'm not really ready to commit to the Red Sox..maybe I'm not done trying on different hats. Not to get serious for a second or anything.

By the time I left the store I was already loving humanity and planning on blogging about this when I got back to my apartment. I stopped at the corner store to purchase turkey sausage for dinner (I ended up "making" cereal instead, though)...and was kinda disappointed when I saw that the owner was not behind the counter, but another woman who seems kind of blah and, quite frankly, doesn't give me the warm welcome to which I am accustomed. I did my sausage acquisition in the rear of the store then made my way to the front counter...where I heard the melodious tune that accompanies the Final Jeopardy question. I involuntarily exclaimed "Oh!" (as the guy paying for his foodstuff shot me a look. what a snot.). The eyes of the woman behind the counter, however, lit up when she recognized in me a fellow fan. The too-cool-for-school guy left, I put my purchases on the counter...and we both turned eagerly toward the T.V. to catch the final outcome. The answer was "Beethoven" (I would have gotten it wrong), and there was a MAJOR UPSET as the anticipated loser raked in $30,000! The cashier said that she loves it when there's a big surprise at the end, and I agreed.

Okay, I know this next sentence is really dorky, so bear with me. It was really nice to share the Final Jeopardy question with someone else...usually it's just me yelling at the T.V. It was an unexpected, delightful end to a pretty delightful day. Who would have thought that I would have found all these interesting, amusing, and heartwarming people and things at all these fairly mundane places?