the Man in Pink

Perhaps this blog could be about the things that people wear in public in San Francisco.

For example, this morning, I was riding the muni train to work and a man's glasses caught my eye. They were somehow stylish, with their bright white rims and squared frames. But they were tasteful, not ostentatious. As I looked at the man, I realized that he was wearing a bright pink jacket and a matching pink bandana tied around his neck. Even his earbuds were pink, with a pink cord. Truly shocking, however, was when he boarded the front of the train and revealed that he was indeed clad in flourescent pink from head to toe, including the shoelaces on his white-and-silver shoes. The only thing on him that appeared not to be pink or white was a bit of his plaid shirt that stuck out between the pink jacket and the pink track pants. It was quite astounding, and all somewhat blinding.

The man situated him self across the aisle from me, to my left, and one seat ahead. I had to keep my eyes closed most of the way because it actually hurt to look at him.

At Powell station, he got up for some reason and changed seats. As he did, his pink plastic-covered iPhone fell on the floor, right at my feet. As I returned it to him, his forefinger grazed my hand as he looked at me and thanked me. I cringed. That is one of my least favorite gestures. I mean, please. I'm just returning your phone, which fell on the floor. It doesn't mean that I want you, and it does not mean that you need to feel up my hand, thank you very much. Especially when you are wearing a hot pink tracksuit.