Reading Suzanne's recent post, I was reminded of my favorite skirt-blowing experience. That sentence makes me sound like some kind of exhibitionist, which, Lord knows, I'm not. But there are just some things that happen that can only make you laugh. Things that enter the common knowledge of those that know you. Things that make your brother's best friend lean over and say "Nice panties," when the poster of Marilyn Monroe is first shown in Shawshank Redemption.
The summer of 1994, I was living in the East Village and working several jobs. My preferred mode of transportation was rollerblading.
One day, I wore a cute, short, flippy skirt. Because who doesn't love a cute, short, flippy skirt in the summertime? It was a skirt with a length and circumference that make it impossible to completely hold down. Like if a big gust of wind were to appear, you would have to choose between covering your flower or your bum. You know the kind of skirt I’m talking about. But, not a problem – it wasn’t a windy day, I rollerbladed in a fashion that wouldn’t whip it up in the air. All was good.
Until I took a detour. On a sidewalk. Over a subway grating. As a train was moving below. Yes, I became the short, brown, rollerblade-shod version of Marilyn Monroe. Except that my skirt was shorter, and there was no holding it down. Because this wasn’t a gust of wind that would allow me to choose between flower and bum. This was a gust from hell, at that time occupying the space below Union Square. All I could do was continue to roll across the grating, my skirt up in the air, my undergarments exposed for all to see, until I reached the other side. Where a man walking by said, “Nice panties.”
Shokufeh, how is it that I've never heard that story before? It's hysterical!
Posted by: Julia at April 29, 2004 06:26 PM