When I first saw it, I thought I was hallucinating. It couldn't be! I blinked my eyes repeatedly, thinking that suddenly my vision would correct itself and a logical explanation would become apparent for what I had thought I'd seen. But then the harsh reality seemed to slap me in the face. Yes, it was true... that man DOES have a mullet.
I thought to myself 'Hasn't anyone told him that the mullet went out of style with Billy Ray Cyrus in 1992?' It just didn't make sense. Here we are in a professional, white collar, high-tech area, and this guy's sporting a mullet.
And this was no accidental mullet. No, no - he wasn't just a few weeks overdue for a haircut. This is an intentional mullet! The sides of his hair were neatly trimmed. You could easily see his entire ear. The front of his hair was neatly brushed toward the back of his head. But then, there it was - on the back of his head, this long, curly mullet. I tried not to stair but I couldn't help it. Kind of like trying to drive past an auto accident along the side of the road without looking. Its practically impossible.
My mind kept searching and searching, trying to come up with some kind of a logical explanation for why this man had a mullet. 'Oh, I bet he's not from around here' I thought. 'He's probably from some rural area in one of those south/central states, just here on business'. After all, he was wearing black Jazz shoes and pleated slacks. Yes, yes that had to be it. Nobody from around here has a mullet and dresses like that. Finally, I was relieved to have figured out the mystery and could get on with eating my lunch.
A few weeks passed and as I was minding my own business eating a 6" turkey on wheat at Subway, who walks in? The Mullet Man! Once again I can't stop looking at him as he stands in that seemingly endless line, waiting to order his sub in the slowest Subway in the free world. But once again I calm myself by reminding myself that 'he's not from around here'. Then I imagine what it must be like for New Yorkers who constantly see rural, out-of-style tourists on a daily basis. I bet somebody's blogging about it as I take a bite of my turkey sub.
But then the unthinkable happens. As he walks away from the counter with his lunch and moves towards the tables I see his work ID clipped to his pleated slacks. He works for a tech firm just up the street! 'Oh my god' I think. 'He IS from around here!'
At this point I can hardly finish my sandwich, I'm so distraught. How could this be? Why haven't any of his co-workers confronted him about his hair? I strain for answers. Maybe no one in his office likes him, so they don't care that he's walking around in his Jazz shoes and pleated slacks with that terrible mullet. On the other hand, maybe he's such a sweet and likeable guy that no one has the heart to tell him he needs to 'fashion forward' about 15 years.
Then the most terrifying of all thoughts hits me like a ton of bricks: Maybe it will be ME that finally tells him the truth. Maybe its my destiny to correct fashion faux pas I encounter. Maybe it is my civic duty to right the fashion wrongs in my community. Maybe he'll thank me for my honesty. Maybe he'll become stylish, we'll become friends, and will look back on this day and chuckle.
Nah... I think I'd rather just blog about him.
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