The Prettiest Girl on the Walk I woke up this morning with visions of Curt Schilling – wearing a Boston Red Sox uniform – dancing in my head. Sure, I was groggy. But I was giddy. Giddy with the thoughts of a clutch workhorse stud pitching as the second ace in our rotation. Eat that, Steinbrenner!
I showered, dressed, and teethbrushed/deodorized in a bit if a haze. All I could think about was Big Curt bringing home that first world championship since 1918. I wasn't paying attention to much else. What else was there to pay attention to?
There's a little something I do sub/unconsciously when I enter a room full of people. I immediately survey the room and pick out the girl I find to be the most attractive of the lot. It's not something I think about. It just happens. And I can't help it. Does anyone else do this?
I bring this up because, on my walk to work today, I noticed one girl who stood out from all the rest of the commuter-walkers. She was a little taller than myself, blonde, and very smart-hip looking. "That's the prettiest girl on the walk," I thought.
I walk fast. Always have, always will. Except when I have a broken foot. So, today being no different from most, walking as fast as I do I pass her.
"Excuse me, sir? You in the pea coat?"
It was her.
"You have some gel in your hair. You didn't quite rub it in all the way."
"Aaargh! Yeah, I was a little distracted this morning.
I raised my hands to clear the aforementioned hair product away.
"Oh, don't worry," she said, setting my arm down with her hand. "Ill get that for you."
And she proceeded to rub my head until the gel was worked in.
My head. She rubbed my head. A beautiful stranger rubbed my head.
‘This', I thought to myself, "is a good omen." After all, if this is how my day begins, I can't wait to see how it ends. Hopefully it ends with Curt Schilling in a Red Sox uniform. And a little more head rubbing.