I live in a small college town, which is great because it greatly increases the amount of random shit you are a witness to.
It’s 8:45 Sunday morning. I’m driving to church. It’s cool, maybe 50 degrees, overcast and a misty rain is falling. A young lady is walking towards me. She’s a big one, and I notice her from a distance. She is wearing a slightly outdated emerald green formal. She’s a college sophomore or junior, definitely not a high school girl and when I say, “She is a big one”, I mean five five or five six, two thirty, at least.
This time of year is spring formal for many of the fraternities. I wasn’t in a fraternity in college so I don’t know how many of these things work, but I don’t think it is supposed to end this way.
She doesn’t look happy. She looks fucking pissed. Here hair is completely disheveled, half out of last night’s upsweep. Heels in one hand, purse and keys in the other. Her strand of fake pearls is longer doubled, and hangs below her sizable belly. She crosses the street in front of me. The back of her dress is slightly zipped up, stopping just below her bra’s cross strap.
She continues down the street, looking for home, a ride or maybe her car. The rain intensifies. Her hungover head slumps.
I’m strangely proud of her for realizing before 9am that she need to get the fuck out of wherever her night ended, only a few hours earlier. Have only to have had my camera.
Is the Walk of Shame Hall of Fame accepting nominations?