a royal adieu from jersey city

In steady keeping with its slogan, "Jersey City: You just never know," this fine municipality bid me farewell on Monday morning by pulling out all the stops. Or really, just pulling it out.

10 o'clock Monday morning. I'm on my way back to my apartment, having just made a quick trip to the Goodwill to drop off two big bags of old clothes. I'm walking down Bergen Ave., minding my business, as I see a particularly thugged-out guy walking toward me. His jeans are baggy and his boxer shorts are all jacked up and he's got his hand all up in his shirt like he's in a music video showing off his six pack.

We're coming up to a cross-walk, and he's walking fairly nearby to two older ladies who seem to know each other but not him. I had given them all the cursory once-over, but my eyes had landed on this guy for just a split second longer because, well, his jeans just seemed TOO baggy and his boxers were up unusually high. It caught my eye.

And then something else caught my eye, and burned itself into my retinas, scorched my corneas and will NEVER GO AWAY. EVER. It's what I see behind my eyelids when I try to sleep at night. Okay, kidding on that last part. But the image is pretty much emblazoned in my mind, because he was out. All of him. All three bits, out, waving, thanking me for my stay in Jersey City and wishing me well on any future endeavors.

I'm sure my face went all screwy as soon as I realized just what I was looking at, and even though I had on sunglasses I KNOW he could tell because he almost instantly took his hand from his shirt and let it hang back down over his boxers. It was quite the adieu bid to me from this fine, fine city, and quite a way to start a Monday morning. But as I said to Holly almost immediately afterward, at least he didn't try to touch me with it. Silver lining, people. Silver lining.


cheers,
elizabeth