5.04.2006

Stuck at the post office

This morning I had to go to the post office to replenish my stamp stash. I didn't have cash for the automatic machine, so I hopped in line at the counter. Unlike small towns, there is usually a line of several people at any given time, so I prepared myself for a short wait. As I was standing, I began to hear a scratchy noise, and couldn't place it at first. After a little contemplation, I decided it sounded like a cross of a cat hacking up a hairball, and Macy Gray. The noise continued in sporadic bursts, so I began to discreetly look around to find out where in the world it was coming from. I soon discovered the source: a 40-something black woman listening to music, which was way too loud, on her headphones. I decided that perhaps she wasn't really that awful at singing, but didn't realize that she was actually singing above an inaudible whisper. Other patrons noticed, as they threw some quick glances back, but everyone was too polite to say anything. It was all I could do to not bust up laughing... and a large grin came out anyway. I tried not to look at her so she wouldn't be able to discern that she was the cause. Note to self: never turn up headphones so loud I can't hear myself... and NEVER sing along in a public setting.

I kept my eyes forward as the noise continued, mouth twitching off a laugh. But this attention forward allowed me to notice the person standing in front of me. An older, overweight, 50ish and mannish woman wearing a pink flowered long sleeved top with ill fitting brown-grey pants, and long frizzy, almost-fro-like hair (if you've seen LOST, it looked like Hurley's hair, but much longer and grosser). I thought at first, the poor woman, looking like that, how unfortunate, I'm sure people laugh at her. I thought of a certain guidance counselor with a similar football build. But then I noticed the large hands holding a postal basket... a gold wedding band, neatly trimmed and slightly longer nails on a pudgy hand attached to... disgustingly hairy arms protruding past the cuffs. "Ugh, I've never seen a woman with arm hair quite THAT bad!" I thought to myself. A shift in the patron's stance allowed me to glimpse the face covered with foundation and blush, and I realized, that's a MAN! To be quite honest, its the first cross dresser I've seen in town, aside from frat boys out at Halloween or other events.

I was stuck between an oblivious singing woman who sounded like radio static and an elderly and obese cross dressing man in pink.

It's definitely time for the semester to be over.
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