i am not a sketchy person. at least, not on the outside. especially not today, when i happen to look particularly cute, since i bit the bullet and woke up at 7am in order to shower and blow dry my hair and other things that i normally bypass in favor of hitting the snooze button. plus i'm wearing a great audrey hepburn-esque outfit, and high heels, which is not an everyday thing for me.
so there i was, on the corner of 4th street and broadway, looking 60s-chic and holding an oversized Banana Republic shopping bag, sipping my diet coke, waiting for the guy who I found over craigslist who was goign to swap me a pile of cash for the video game system in the Banana bag (not sketchy, i swear). we were supposed to meet at 3:30, and to pass the time until he showed up i was checking my hot self out in the quasi-refletive windows of the Tower Records. one can only pout in a sultry way at a red hot chili peppers album cover for so many minutes, though, and being without a watch i sited an approaching pedestrian (blonde, well dressed, carrying a knockoff balenciaga bag) with a visible watch and asked her politely for the time.
"I don't give money to the homeless."she said, without breaking stride.
There's this amazing phrase in french, l'esprit d'escalier. it literally means "the spirit of the staircase," but figuratively it means the experience of coming up with the perfect, perfect rejoinder once the argument is over and you've left the room. all i could do when this woman dismissed me as homeless and misinterpreted "excuse me, do you have the time?" as "got any change, lady?" was stare openmouthed at her briskly departing Ann Taylor Loft-attired back. but oh if only i were quicker of wit. it's been an hour, and i still can't think of a good comeback, except for sticking my foot out and tripping her, and then looking at her watch while she lay sprawled on the ground. let's call it l'esprit d'argh horrible bitch fuck you.