Judge Not A Man By His Dreads

have you ever had a certain kind of stereotype shattered? you know, like you meet (or maybe see from across the room) a certain person, and you're like "hm, yeah, from the looks of it, he's probably not a nice person" etc?

I have this horrible habit of sizing people up the second I walk into a public area.

"ooh, that guy doesn't look like a guy you should mess with." "oh, she looks really. uhm. skanky..." "dang, this guy won't be getting no girl soon. he ugly!"

obviously, I don't say these things out loud, but like I said, it's a terrible, terrible habit that needs to be dealt with and I'm working on it. it's funny how it only takes that one little thing they say or do to you and then that little structure you've built around them comes crashing down. aaand, of course I wouldn't be saying all this if it didn't happen to me... I got served. it was like God was just waiting for the right moment and thankfully, it was in a non-embarrassing way.

Tuesday night, the three musketeers (parents and I) were on their merry way to a friend's recital at the Steinway Hall in NY. to get there, we had to take the wonderful underground public transportation (totally sarcastic by the way), otherwise known as the subway. now, if you've ever been on the subway during rush hour, you'll know and agree with me that it's usually a somewhat common (and uncomfortable) situation to be pushed up against strangers. seats, of course, are limited and are a "first come, first serve" basis, despite the signs that insist the rights be given to the elderly and pregnant.

it was about 6:00PM when we boarded the subway and there was a fair amount of people in the car, but not to the point where everybody was standing in your face and in the your-breath-reeks proximity. however, most of the seats were taken and only my mother was able to snag a spare between two burly men. one of them, we'll call him Mr. Dreads for my story-telling sake, had his head down, lost in his music, and the other was deep in some novel. I almost felt bad for my mother, sandwiched uncomfortably between these two guys.

as I stood over my mother, clutching the germ-infested pole for dear life, I tried hard not to think about the lady and her not-so-flattering cheeks sandwiched on the pole that had been depicted on Ellen and desperately prayed that above all else, the car wouldn't swing me off my feet and send me tumbling head-first into the lap of a stranger. my balance is dreadful even on a perfectly smooth (and wide) surface with nothing trying to topple me over, so don't even get me started on a swaying car. and to top off this beautiful scenario, I was wearing a skirt and flats (with absolutely no traction whatsoever). the last thing I wanted to do was topple on a stranger, especially not Mr. Dreads. I swear I am not being racist but I will admit, I had my doubts about that guy. he looked like he'd been living the thug-life, had the whole saggy-pants thing going, and wore a slightly intimidating expression on his face. and the dreads? well, they didn't help much. I'll be honest and say, he was the last guy I expected to do what he did...

anyway.

as the car lurched to and fro, side to side, and I held on for dear life and prayed the passengers would not see more than uh, necessary, I wondered silently why gentlemen had disappeared off the face of the earth... I mean, no man was nice enough to let any of the ladies have their seats and this particular car was full of guys sitting and plenty of ladies having to stand.

well anyway, two stops before we were to get off, the man with the book got off the car, leaving an empty seat which dad took (upon my insistence). however, as luck would have it, there was an empty seat two seats over from where my mum was--located right between Mr. Dreads and another man. my mother noticed the seat immediately and asked me if I wanted to sit down over there. at this point, I realized I had gone a solid twenty minutes standing on the shaky car without falling over or slipping about awkwardly, so I decided I didn't mind standing til the next stop.

I must've shook my head and said no quite loudly because suddenly, Mr. Dreads looked up right at me and asked if I would like his seat instead so I could sit next to mum. I opened my mouth to tell him it was alright, but he smiled and slid over to the empty seat, before I could even protest. I didn't even know how he could've heard my mother because the guy had had his head practically down the whole ride and on top of that he had his ears plugged. anyhow, I was not one to let chivalry go in vain, so I thanked him and sat down next to my mother.

it might've been a warm seat, but needless to say, I couldn't help but wear a big smile as the car swayed to and fro.

there were still gentlemen after all... and they came in the least expected shapes and sizes.

some... even with dreads.