Drunk Woman

Yesterday I saw a woman stumbling around the metro platform. As it was 1:00 in the afternoon and hot as a beotch outside, I initially decided she was faint from the heat. I say initially, because upon closer inspection she was as drunk as a sorority girl in Kappa Sig. She was dressed in a hot pink unitard, or onesy as I like to call them, self-hemmed right below the vagina. What made her more interesting was that she was carrying around a clumsy bouquet of flowers obviously bought as an afterthought. She looked at them, looked at the train tracks, looked at the flowers again, and then threw them down at the feet of some unsuspecting plump young Jewess who has been watching the scene with as much interest as I. As the daisies hit the floor my new bff muttered some thing inaudible and then began to move. As she stammered past me I caught the all to familiar odor of Arbor Mist Raspberry Chardonnay.

Where was she coming from? An unsuccessful afternoon date? The local strip clubs down the street? I like to believe she has met her long lost crush for drinks with the hope of getting an afternoon quickie or dime bag of cocaine. What really happened I will never know. But I'm sure I'll find something just as interesting after work today!