Maybe I need a new walking route

I walk basically the same way to and from work every day, and I’ve come accustomed to seeing the regulars on this walk. There’s the middle-aged woman forlornly pushing the baby stroller with a four-year-old girl wearing glasses inside. There’s the old Asian couple that walks hand in hand, staring in the treetops with child-like wonder. There’s the standard collection of frat boys and their tenants, jogging or just looking pretty in front of their houses. And of course there’s Darryl, the Ave’s most likeable homeless person, nearly always shirtless and usually with a helpful phrase or incomprehensible story on his lips. Even for the people whose names I don’t know, I’ve started to feel a mild attachment, like one feels for a favorite t-shirt that’s too ratty to wear to school but too full of memories to throw away.

Today, however, I encountered two additions to this cast of oddballs that might top even Darryl, based on net strangeness. I spied them as I turned the corner from Greek Row onto 47th, and immediately did a double take. They were either lesbian lovers or a heterosexual couple with a feminine twinge, but either way I was impressed. The one, which could have been a guy, was taller than me – not towering, but definitely tall enough to peer over a few fences – and the one which was almost definitely a girl was really, really short, almost to the point of dwarfism. They sported identical blonde bowl cuts.

I marveled over their presence, but then forgot about them for the remainder of the day. But then! Walking home, I saw the exact same couple in a tiny little red convertible, top down of course. The “guy” was driving. Unbelievable.

Or maybe it’s not that unbelievable. But I welcome the change to my lineup.

I have to leave, like, right now. Nathan and I are meeting Roark, Ariana, and Jen at a park on Queen Anne, and then we’re going to Easy Street records to hear Presidents of the United States of America play. If you read this in the next half hour, you should come.