As I sit drinking my hibiscus tea I see couples coming and going, enjoying their Sunday afternoon.
As I sit barefoot in my worned Target t-shirt and wrinkled cotton pants I inwardly cringe at them.
The cool guys with fedoras, slick hair and matching lumberjack beards. The beautiful girls with flowing long hair and oh so fashionable boutique clothing and designer sandals.
When did this happened? I wonder. When did my relaxed no-give-a-shit town turn I to this pasarela?
But then, it’s not really my town; and this people have always existed here, there and everywhere; and really I’m being judgemental.
They made me want to not shower, and wear last year’s fashion – wrinkled – , and dye my hair purple and come in after a day at the beach treading sand and with salty and crazy hair.
Maybe I’m just . . . Me.