At Starbucks this morning, as we left the parking lot, we were stuck behind a ponytailed woman in a car that looked rather like it was leftover from the 70's. Large. White. American. She was drumming the steering wheel and singing along with whatever she was listening to, which would have been fine, if she'd only been driving with some semblance of normal speed. Thankfully, we weren't behind her for long. Her license plate was 2BIP003, although I wanted the first 0 to be an O. Because then it would have been a rather optimistic plate for Silicon Valley: 2B-IPO-03
Later in our drive, we passed Happy Old Guy, who takes his morning constitutional at about the same time that we get to his block every day. He's always walking briskly, fanny-pack at the ready, smile on his face. I think he'd be happier if he had a dog, though.
And finally, on this warm spring morning, when usually is the only person alive who would need to be wearing a coat, we passed another older guy, trudging down Parkmoor in a camouflage-colored parka, and silver ski pants. My comment, “Um, camouflage doesn't really make you blend on a suburban street corner” garnered a glare, and the response that a lime green t-shirt (um, actually, it's pistachio, but he's color blind, so for him that was amazingly accurate) doesn't really make you blend in a Subaru Forester. As if I'd try!