Thursday, January 14, 2010

Scene: Sinistra

Saw a young (20-something) gal board the bus this morning. She caught my eye because she had this very retro hair -- honey-blonde, long (a bit over shoulder-length) that felt very 70s to me. Somewhere between classic Farrah hair and Cheryl Tiegs, maybe, although maybe some curling iron action on it. Her face was oval, and had a sinister beauty to it that reminded me of a former coworker, although she had full lips and arched brows and dark, squinty eyes. Couldn't be sure if they were hazel or brown. Just dark. She wore stovepipe jeans of very dark hue, and black booties, and a nondescript winter jacket. No jewelry on her hands, although her nails, while unpainted, were well-tended by the look of them.

Two other things jumped out at me with Sinistra -- one was her tendency to sit with her mouth open, very mouthbreathery, just kind of sitting there, squinting off into the distance, gapemouthed. The other thing was her gigantic backpack. The thing was huge. Sitting next to her on the seat, it came up to her shoulders, and was easily 16 inches thick. It was an olive drab canvas abomination, just massive. She was of middling height, perhaps 5'5" -- so the backpack easily dominated her frame. A bottle of pale orange-colored vitamin water was stuffed in the side of it, in a beverage caddy. I wondered what she'd be doing with that massive bag. She also had a purse, a black leather thing, ruffled.

The combination made me wonder what her story was. Runaway? A European of some sort, here on holiday? I don't know. She just squinted her way through her commute. Likely bound for Union Station, judging from the bus we were on. The train station? The colossal backpack looked large enough to hold her whole life.