Steven, who was resplendent in pink. Shocking pink hair and long finger nails. Tastefully dressed in a rose colored sweater dress, underneath a short hot pink jacket, which matched his hot pink leggings. Black and red striped socks peeked between his leggings and his sparkly silver tennis shoes. He smelled of stale cigarettes.
The Russian mother and her daughters. The daughters were younger- maybe nine and six? The nine year old wore a large, dark red flower in her dark brown hair. The six year old had a big, curly, bright green bow in her blonde hair. The six year old could not stop staring at Steven. I know this because Steven sat one seat away from me on my left, and the Russian family was on my right. The six year old seemed a little frightened of him, actually. Her blue eyes were enormous and she kept whispering to her mother in Russian.
Steven seemed harmless to me. He muttered a little to himself, and the woman at the counter had to write down his information because when he filled out the form his handwriting was illegible. But he was polite, inoffensive. I'm guessing that the six year old had never quite seen anyone like Steven before.
Also there? The short round woman who was in front of me at the counter while I was waiting for my parking validation. She said things like, 'My head is still on the highway! I am not all here!', and, 'I never take a $50 bill when I'm working at the flea market. It's just a superstition of mine.' and 'If she doesn't have change for you I bet she sure would like a tip!'.
It was an interesting start to the week.