[Previous entry: "Windsor Report II: City Remembered"] [Next entry: "The Spit"]
01/14/2005: "Litterbug"
Yesterday afternoon was so hot (17C) it was like one of those first spring days when everybody is out on the streets feeling free and light. I left my house here on Dupont and walked west at around 3pm. In front of the awful Pour House pub there was a white Pontiac Sunfire parked. As I approached, a woman in her early 20s got out of the car, and started walking around to the sidewalk. As she did she was unwrapping a pack of cigarettes. She let the plastic wrapping go. We made eye contact, then I followed the plastic fall to the ground. Then I looked back up and made eye contact again. Then she smiled at me. And then I looked away because I was now past the car. All this took about 5 seconds.
For a second I thought maybe she was smiling shyly like "I'm a bad litterbug" but then I realized she might have thought I was checking her out, because she watched my line of vision go up and down her body, and if she's a litterbug, why on earth would she even think the piece of plastic was something I’d look at and object to, so of course I was checking her out. When I figured this out, 3 seconds later, I shook my head, as in "oh these awful people ruining my city" but as I was doing that I thought what if she's thinking "he's shaking his head because he's thinking 'mmmmmm that woman is so hot'". I couldn't win, and I couldn't turn around and risk making this impossible terrible scenario worse. So I went and got an Americano and walked to the Y.
Lessons:
Swear angry obscenities at people who litter in Toronto so they know, without a doubt, that you are not checking them out.
