Out My Window
Clarence Clemons
I often see strange and wonderful things out my window at work. I sit at the front of the office behind a big window with a view of the street. The window's shades prevent passerbys from seeing me, but I see them and all their weirdness. Our office is located in the Lincoln Park neighborhood of Chicago across the street from a Guitar Center and a Home Depot. The area sports a complete cast of characters: yuppies, stay-at-home moms (and dads), musicians, dog walkers, mental patients, etc. Though they cannot be simply be characterized simply be the aforementioned stereotypes, it gives you idea of what I'm working with.
Usually once a day I see something that makes me look twice. From where I sit, I've seen a gay hipster couple engage in a heated lover's quarrel, a man galavanting around with a full ninja sword, a thirty-something woman with hair down to her caboose sporting complete medieval garb, and a muscle-clad musician heading into Guitar Center built like a NFL running back wearing a full African dress and Ugs.
I echoed some of the awesome oddities I've seen to my coworkers, and they suggested I begin writing them down. I thought it over for awhile and concluded that it's highly unlikely that I ever secure a people-watching perch like the one I'm currently occupying, so why not try to occasionally capture it in prose. Who knows? Tomorrow my seat might be moved and this will be all for not, but I thought I'd take advantage of my window to the world while I can.
Today I saw...a dude crossing the street that looked like a ghetto pirate. He sauntered his way to the other side of the street like sailor still getting his barring on land after many anight at sea. It's possible that this was just his pimp walk, but the character was devoid of any said pimp cane. His pants were neon orange and I believe had cargo pockets, while he wore an ill-fitting summer sportcoat. Donning black shades and two different multi-colored bandanas, this man's life story quickly became apparent.
From what I could gather he was obviously a former buccaneer who had retired from chasing salty wenches, took a spell working construction on the highway, had auditioned as a keyboard player in Clarence Clemons' band, and now had finally dusted off his only suit jacket and stepped out into the cruel, cold world - like the millions of the nation's unemployed - to look for work. Godspeed my friend. Godspeed.