K.D.: Great costume, by the way. Very clever.
N.S.: Is that what that is? I was wondering why you were wearing that.
The costume was me as the white pawn on a chessboard, or the black pawn, depending on whom you ask. White khakis, white button-down, white socks, black shoes, and my new favorite shirt, a white t-shirt with black fringe on the sleeves and neck, and a large pawn on the chest, with the word pawn below it. I move one step at a time anyway, and in fifteen years or so, I plan on becoming a queen, so this costume may work out much better than anticipated.
Now, in theory, in my head, this Halloween costume seemed great. In practice, I didn’t realize that I looked a little off. The collared shirt threw it off. If I’d had a white turtleneck, it would have been perfect.
For some reason, the near-all-white uniform plus me walking around led to a lot of stares. I haven’t been stared at that much since I went to church with C.T. Since that church’s attendance was all African-American, and I am not African-American, everyone I passed looked at me like a freak. Same effect today, especially since I must be at least ten years too old to be dressing up for Halloween.
Of course, in the law school during the morning, most people didn’t even notice. People tend not to notice when you sneak into the classroom and sit down quickly.
After Sales and Sales Financing, it was time to go to Chipotle, down at the
At this point, I saw D.B., and like a smartass, he wondered why, if I was the white pawn, why the pawn on my shirt was black.
In class, professor K.D. was the only person in the entire school to figure out what the hell I was doing with the shirt, as most everyone else thought I was just insane. Woo.
Later at Giant, I saw Raggedy Ann, a pack of frozen peas, and a sumo. Why don’t more people just be goofy and dress up for Halloween?
Fast forward to after sunset. I went to D.C. and M.C.’s apartment to trick or treat. They unlocked the door, I said “Trick or Treat,” and they just mutely held up the hollowed skull full of candy. Apparently I am too old to be doing this.
***
I had to visit the bank. My bank is trapped within a Giant supermarket, which is quite convenient. Better than cashing a check at the liquor store and blowing it on beer and chips. Now I can cash my checks at the grocery store and blow it on soda and chips.
I was waiting in line behind an androgynous client. Final conclusion, Caucasian female, though it wasn’t easy. Black hair, but fading, shot through with random white strands, a short cut, somewhat similar to my shank of hair, but a bit fuller. Appropriate for either sex. Rounded face, somewhat effeminate, but not to the point of being determinative. Very hairy forearms, but those don’t indicate male or female. Easily in his/her thirties. Purple polo shirt, loose blue jeans. Both gave no hint as to sexual identity, no hint of bosom, no ass. Just flat top to bottom. Looked at the shoes, grey athletic shoes. The hands were just veiny enough to make me wonder if she’d weathered a lot at work or if he was starting to get fat. No visible jewelry, and I didn’t want to ask about piercings. Hell, I tried to read the handwritten name off the check, and all I could decipher was St____.
It’s amazing how much you can notice when you’re trying not to be noticed. S/he kept looking all around, several times staring right at me, even though I was looking elsewhere. Finally, I managed to get a glance of his/her face from a profile, and noticed thick thick peach fuzz all around the cheeks and chin. Yes, it was in a beard formation, but it had never felt a blade’s edge. Had to be a female. Although, now that I sit here typing this, the possibility of hormone treatments and transsexuality enter my thoughts.
She continued to look all around, and I wondered why she was so silent, until I saw her throwing gang signs at the bank teller. MS thirteen in suburbia. Wait, no, she’s still throwing gang signs, and he’s throwing back. Oh, she’s deaf. No wonder she hasn’t made a peep. No wonder they’re not talking to each other. Ever have one of those stupid moments where you are dumb?
At one point, she was staring away from the teller, though he was trying to wave at her to get her attention. I tried tapping her on the shoulder, even just to see if a tap could give me any hints about her sexual identity. No.
Walking away from the bank, I had to go buy some mushrooms. I pass a rotund, humpty dumpty shaped person, and she whispers, “Excuse me.” What? Were you talking to me? I take a look at the person, and again, sexual characteristics don’t show themselves. S/he’s like a giant egg, wearing a skull cap, chocolate-skinned, really round face, thick down jacket, some of the strangest white eyes I’ve ever seen. The only all white eyes I’ve ever seen. I finally figure out she’s whispering to me, “Can you show me where the exit is.”
Maybe she wasn’t entirely blind, because she did stop me as I walked past, though it might have been she heard my footsteps. At any rate, I start walking ahead of her, and she does manage to follow, swinging her cane from left to right, tapping ahead of her. I give her verbal directions, telling her where to walk, what to avoid. Why it didn’t occur to me to take her arm and physically guide her, I’ll never know. It was almost like guiding a plane in at landing. We finally manage to get her out, with little more guidance than my words.
Deaf, dumb and blind. These things come in threes.
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