I've just returned home from an all-too-short trip to visit Sir Hefley in D.C.
And boy, what a trip it was. It all started Friday afternoon.
As I wandered around Dupont Circle on Friday afternoon....by wandering I mean hopelessly looking for somewhere to rest my weary feet...I was lucky enough to stumble upon the only open seat at a starbucks (lame, I know, but beggars can't be choosers...especially since coffee shops in D.C. don't believe in providing seating for their customers). I sat down in my prized seat, a stool in a row along the window, and pulled out my dazzling copy of "Beyond Smoke and Mirrors:Mexican Immigration in an Era of Economic Integration." I read for awhile, sipping my scalding hot tea in silence, and hoping with all my heart that it would be one of the last times I ever had to sit in a coffee shop alone. After about an hour had passed, I decided I could no longer sit in silence and got up to leave so I could make my way back to the metro station and eventually back to Conley's apartment, where I intended to pass the rest of the afternoon vegging out in front of the television. As I walked out the door, a well-dressed man in the midst of an obnoxiously loud phone conversation followed close behind me. I thought nothing of it until this man sidled up to me (no longer on the phone) and asked:
"would you like to model for me?"
Now, I'm no fool--I know I'm not the modeling type. I've also watched too many crime dramas and read too many books about sex-trafficking. My instant response was a polite, but sure:
"no, thank-you."
Apparently, this was not enough, because the man continued to badger me, saying things like,
"I know it has a bad reputation, but I really think you'd be good for it," "you should have confidence in your abilities," and "you might like it."
He outdid himself, though, when he said:
"Don't worry. I'm not looking for thin models."
I mean. How is a girl even supposed to react to that one?
"thanks, creepy man, for first making me uncomfortable by asking me to model and then for making an ambivalent observation about my body type?"
needless to say, I told the man "no thanks" once more, and then made some excuse about having to meet somebody for a coffee date. I quickly walked into the nearest shop, and watched to make sure the guy walked in a different direction than I did.
I am still not sure what to think about this scenario. Did I almost become the next day's missing persons headline? Or did I miss my chance for a plus-sized modeling career?
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I was still mulling these events over in my mind the next day as Conley and I hopped on the train so we could go out for brunch. As we stood, waiting for our stop to come up, I noticed an older gentleman stealing glances at me. I peeked out of the corner of my eye, and saw that he was sketching me in his sketchbook. Although quite flattered, I couldn't help but wonder what made it painfully obvious that I didn't belong in or blend into the D.C. environment. I blame these chipmunk cheeks of mine.
Unfortunately, my sense of vanity and curiosity has gotten the best of me, and now I can't help but wonder what will become of that sketch?
