When I was 19, I didn't own a car. My father would have to drop by and pick me up to drag my ass home for a weekend with the parents. The drive from Seattle back to Enumclaw was usually a quiet and boring adventure as the radio in his truck had been busted for some time. To pass the time I would people watcch as the cars passed by, and believe me when I say, the northwest didn't have the most attractive pickin's when it came to this pasttime.
Now I am not a person who makes eye contact with stragers all that easily, for the most part I am avoiding it at all costs. I think this habit comes from my time avoiding panhandlers and tourists' questions in SF, as well as the unfriendly vibe I got when living in Pittsburgh. Very rarely would I make eye contact for longer than a second while staring down these semi-conscious drivers of the I-5 corridor.
One day on my way home with dad at the helm, I was taken aback by a very handsome man in the red pickup truck next to us who kept looking back and smiling. I glanced at my dad to see if he noticed the flirtation but he didn't, so I smiled right back locking eyes with the handsome devil to my right. He kept up the pace riding right alongside us and I kind of wish I would have pulled out a piece of paper and written my number on it. As he stared me down for a long minute, he seemed to forget about the car in front of him down the way that had pulled to a stop due to congestion by the offramp. BAM! It all happened so fast that all I saw was a blur of airbag and a chunk of red reflector flying toward the side of our car and then he was gone... We were already far down the road in our fast lane. "Damn! did you see that?!" my dad yelped. "Um....yeah dad...weird...he must not have been paying attention."
I was actually kind of freaked, had I just caused an accident? Now when I think about it, I realize: I am the most beautiful Geisha... I can stop a man in his tracks with one look. (Ok it took more like 17 looks and one long gaze, but it still did the job.)
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